


strike the match

by onekingdomonce



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, The Proposal AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:38:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 93,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekingdomonce/pseuds/onekingdomonce
Summary: Laurent is the editor in chief ofAcquitart Publishing. He is high-powered, ruthless, and has just found out that his visa has been denied. Desperate and erratic, he forces his assistant Damen into marrying him to avoid deportation and to keep his position.Damen begrudgingly accepts, but not without a few conditions of his own, one of them being a week in Akielos for his mother’s birthday where Laurent can meet the family and they can announce their engagement together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHOS BACK ALREADY LMAO  
> here is the proposal au that the capri fandom requires. some parts will be the same, some changed and some entirely omitted.  
> a heads up, this first chapter is definitely the most word for word copied in terms of scenes/dialogue from the movie, but it will get much more original as it goes. the middle section of the fic is entirely made up scenes.  
> also, if you read my previous amnesia fic then this one is definitely going to be much shorter and less slow burn bc i needed a break from the constant pain, so this will be much lighter.  
> enjoy!

_it’s dangerous to fall in love_   
_but i want to burn with you tonight_   
_i ache for love, ache for us_   
_we’re a perfect match, perfect somehow_   
_we were meant for one another_   
_and i can barely breathe_   
_when you’re here loving me_   
_fire meet gasoline_   
_burn with me tonight_

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

That was the only thing that passed through Damen’s mind as he ran down the busy streets of Delpha with his bag clutched against his side, his tie thrown over his shoulder as he dodged distracted pedestrians left and right, weaving his way through the stream of people. 

“Watch it,” someone sneered, glaring at Damen over their cell phone as he shoved his body through the small gap between the man and the person walking beside them, looking at Damen as if he was running his ass off this early in the morning for fun and not because he was about five minutes away from being screwed. 

“Sorry,” Damen said over his shoulder, raising a hand in the air towards the line of cars as he rushed across the street, ignoring the beeps and honks as he stumbled onto the sidewalk and into the small Starbucks on the corner. 

“Shit,” Damen said under his breath, looking at the clusters of people lined around the entire shop, snacks and bottles and wrapped sandwiches clutched in their hands, the place nearly over brimming with chaos. The groups extended far past the _line starts here_ sign, and Damen estimated that it would be at least twenty minutes before he was out of there.

“Damen!”

Damen looked up at the sound of his name, all the breath leaving him in relief as he saw Kashel standing behind the counter, two large cups of coffee in her hands, one raised in his direction.

Damen nudged his way through the line, ignoring all the groans and sounds of annoyance as he made his way to the front, taking the cups from her. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re saving my life.” 

“I’ll see you,” she said, leaning her elbows down on the counter. Damen winked as he took the cups from her, already backing up and pushing out the door.

The rest of the distance was thankfully short, no more than a block down that Damen knew he could now take in a speed walk, though he was still careful in balancing the two cups, full to the brim as he made his way through the revolving doors of _Acquitart Publishing_. As he felt the first blast of air conditioning on his skin, heard the first click of heels and ring of phones, he chanced a look at his watch and felt any semblance of assurance slip away when he saw he was three minutes late. 

Sparing himself just a second to squeeze his eyes shut and curse incensed bosses and ludicrous stringency, Damen made a run through the lobby around each person, calling out something intelligible as he turned onto his side and just managed to slip through the closing elevator doors, nearly banging into two wide eyed women as the doors shut.

Damen felt the seconds tick by as the liquid heated his fingers through the cup, resisting the urge to pull the doors apart himself and physically climb up the elevator shaft. As it was he could tell he looked jumbled, his hair likely a mess from all of the running, and he knew one of the most important things in the presence of his highness was looking pristine. 

Damen heard the _ding_ of the elevator’s arrival, the doors sliding open and the large office finally coming into view. Damen stepped out and into the wide entryway, walking through the glass double doors as he attempted to heft the strap of his bag higher onto his shoulder, making his way around the secretary’s desk.

“Cutting it close,” Kyrina said, the phone pressed between her ear and shoulder as she glanced up from the papers in her hands, watching as Damen passed by her.

“One of those mornings,” he said, looking back over his shoulder as he replied. He continued walking, knowing he didn’t have a moment to spare, and it was as he began to turn back around and make for his own desk that he slammed right into another man, one of the cups slipping from his hand and smashing between their colliding bodies, hot liquid spilling all over him and seeping into his dress shirt.

Jesus _Christ_. Damen felt the liquid drip down his neck as the foam of the cup bent between his clutched fingers, the man he had bumped into looking at Damen with wide eyes as Damen glared at him, trying to push down the way his irritation from already being late and discombobulated was turning into something else, something begging to take physical release. 

Damen walked to the first garbage he saw and threw the crushed cup away, slamming the one that was meant to be his onto his desk. He dropped his bag onto his chair and looked around the office, raking his eyes over every cubicle, every man and woman typing with a ferocity that indicated the way the entirety of this office was over aware of who would be walking in any minute now, setting anything with a pulse on edge. 

Damen spotted Aktis in one of the corners, taking a few seconds to weigh his options. Aktis wasn’t as large as him but no one in this office was, and Aktis size was probably the closest he would get to a proper fit. Damen stalked over to him with that in mind, Aktis spinning around in his chair the instant he heard footsteps, a grin split across his face.

“He’s going to lose it if you walk into his office looking like that.”

“I need your shirt,” Damen said, ignoring the humor in his eyes. “Now.”

Damen watched as humor turned to disbelief, impatience sparking inside him as Aktis’ lips parted. “You can’t be-“

“I’ll get you tickets to any game you want,” Damen said, a second away from ripping the shirt off himself. “Any seat, any spot. _Now_.”

It was as Damen walked into the large office at the end of the room, adjusting his new tie and running a hand into his hair that he heard the vibrations on some of the desks, feeling it in his own back pocket. The daily string of messages had begun; something along the lines of _it’s here!_ And _the snake has slithered in._

Damen settled his back on one of the floor to ceiling windows, sweeping the mahogany desk and two lush chairs with a glance before facing forward diligently, just catching the people scurrying into their cube and flattening themselves against the wall to get out his way. 

Damen saw him the instant he was in view, walking down the pathway that was clearing for him as if his vicinity alone was harmful, eyes never straying from the screen of his phone as he walked to his office like the steps were memorized. He wore well-fitted pants, clinging to his long legs like they were tailored specifically for him, the dark blue of his shirt causing his skin to seem even more flawless. 

Damen just remembered to pick up the lone cup of coffee as Laurent walked in, dreading the moment he would look up from whatever it was he was focused on and set his cold, beautiful eyes on him. Damen felt his presence change the way the air felt around him, displeasure filling his body along with some other unfortunate, self-betraying sensation. 

“Morning, boss,” Damen said as he held the coffee out, nearly tossing it in indignation as Laurent took it from him without glancing up, stepping around Damen and towards his chair as Damen took the briefcase from his hand in passing and set it down on the table. “You have a conference call in thirty minutes,” he added, stepping in front of the desk.

“Yes, about the marketing for the spring books, I know.”

“Staff meeting at nine-“

“Did you call- what’s her name?” Laurent said as he sat down, immediately sifting through papers. “The one with-“ He cut himself off and began waving his hand around in circles like that would explain who he was referring to. Laurent knew the name, just like he knew everything, he was simply testing Damen and his assiduousness for reasons unbeknownst to anyone but himself.

“Ianestra.” 

“Ianestra, yes.”

“Yes,” Damen said, setting a stack of books in front of Laurent. “Yes I did call her and I told her if she doesn’t get her manuscript in on time, you won’t give her a release date.” He continued to arrange things on Laurent’s desk as he spoke. ”Your immigration lawyer called, he said it’s imperative-“

“Cancel the call,” Laurent interrupted, “push the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets. Oh, get a hold of PR and have them start drafting a press release, Touars is doing Oprah.” 

“Wow,” Damen said, blinking in awe as Laurent scribbled something down flippantly. “Well done.”

“If I want your praise, I’ll ask for it,” Laurent replied, shutting the book and reaching for his coffee, spinning his chair around to face the computer behind him. Damen remained in his spot for a moment, his eyes boring into the back of his golden hair as a slew of different fantasies of a wide variation passed through his mind, squeezing one hand into a fist as he turned for the door. He looked down at the bundle of papers in his hand and began to flip through them, looking down at the list of titles and authors as he planned out his first few moves for the day.

“Huh,” he heard, knowing very well that that sound was not offhanded and was very much a suggestion for Damen to stop where he was. He turned in his spot and watched as Laurent looked up from the cup gripped between loose fingers, a pale brow arching. “Who’s Kashel?” he asked, looking at Damen properly for the first time that day. “And why does she want me to call her?” his nose scrunched slightly on the word _she_.

Damen repressed a sigh, knowing from the start that this was going to be a long, grueling day. “Well, that was originally my cup.” 

“And I’m drinking your coffee, why?”

“Because your coffee spilled,” he said, wanting to get this over with.

“Ah.” Laurent raised his chin, pursing his lips as he looked again at the writing on the side. Damen didn’t actually have Kashel’s number saved, he should probably keep an eye on what Laurent did with the cup when he was finished, he wouldn’t mind another round with her. “So you drink sweetened caramel lattes with two extra pumps?”

“I do,” Damen replied, the part of him that didn’t need some form of caffeine grateful that his teeth wouldn’t feel like they were going to rot. “Crazy coincidence.” 

Laurent spun his chair back around as he took his first sip, the ringing phone causing Damen to walk back into the office and stare at Laurent’s back. “Good morning, Laurent R’s office,” Damen answered, listening before saying, “Hello, Guion.” 

Laurent shook his finger over his head, causing Damen to frown as he said, “actually, we’re heading to your office now, yes.” He hung up, waiting for Laurent to face him again. “Why are we headed to Guion’s office?”

Laurent ignored him, opening the book stacked on top and waving a hand towards the door. Damen inhaled slowly, turning on his heel and leaving the room, making straight for his desk a few feet off from Laurent’s door, rubbing his forehead with his hand as he dropped down heavily. He took a moment to collect himself and pacify his thoughts before standing back up, following after Laurent who was passing by him in a quick stride. 

“Have you finished the manuscript I gave you?” Damen asked, falling into step with him.

“I read a few pages, I wasn’t that impressed,” Laurent said, eyes scanning the office as they walked. 

“Can I say something?”

“No.”

“I’ve read thousands of manuscripts,” Damen said anyway, looking at Laurent imploringly as he spoke. ”And this is the only one I’ve ever given you. There’s an incredible novel in there-“

“A man who falls in love with the enemy who killed his own brother?” Laurent said, glancing at Damen fleetingly like the conversation was so preposterous that it didn’t deserve a proper look.

“Have you read the entire thing?” Damen asked, knowing Laurent wouldn’t have admitted it but still needing to try. “It’s essential-“

“Give me a break,” Laurent said. He stopped in front of Guion’s door, turning so he was now facing Damen, dropping the coffee in the garbage. “You’re nothing but a prop in here, understand?” He motioned towards the door behind him with his head, waiting for Damen’s expected response.

“I won’t say a word,” Damen replied, knowing that this was beneath him and feeling more frustrated by the fact that he was powerless. He knew what he needed to do and what his hard work would get him, and that was all that he allowed himself to focus on as he stepped around Laurent, pushing the door open for him and waiting for Laurent to enter before walking in the rest of the way. The office was decked in dark mahogany and cherry wood, the designs just as overwhelming and ostentatious as Laurent’s, though these colors were mainly neutrals whereas Laurent’s were a lavish blend of blues and golds. 

Guion was seated behind his desk, his fingers moving rapidly over his keyboard as he ignored the sound of them entering, finishing whatever it was he was typing before glancing up and acknowledging Laurent. First mistake.

“Our fearless leader,” Guion said as he clicked out of his screen, motioning inwards with his hand. “Please, come in.”

Damen watched as Laurent walked into the office, giving the expanse of it a cursory glance as he ran a hand along one of the shelves lining the walls, skin barely touching the surface. “Is this new?”

“New to my office, yes,” he said.

“Lovely,” Laurent replied, looking at it like a vintner would a twelve-dollar bottle from the grocery store. In the same breath he said, “Guion, I’m letting you go.”

Damen looked up, eyes flying to Guion as he glanced up from his computer screen, looking at Laurent with wide, unblinking eyes. Laurent, who was likely twenty years Guion’s junior looked at him with a casual lift of his brow, staring at him blankly like his mind was already elsewhere, minutes past this conversation. 

Guion gaped, looking at Damen as if he could do anything but gawk himself, looking back at Laurent after. “Pardon?”

“I told you over a dozen times to get Touars to do Oprah and you didn’t do it,” Laurent said, his voice pitched like this explanation was a waste of everyone’s time. “You’re fired.”

Damen pushed the door shut.

Standing up form his desk, Guion’s eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, leaning forward. “I’ve told you that’s impossible, given that Touars hasn’t done an interview in over twenty years.” He spread his hands out at his sides, looking satisfied in his response and displaying every bit of proof that he had absolutely no idea who he was up against. 

“That’s interesting,” Laurent said. “Because I just got off the phone with him, and he is in.” and then because he was Laurent, he smiled. 

Damen’s eyes swung to Guion, feeling like he was watching someone step up to the hoop after the previous opponent made a one handed dunk, eyes shut.

“You didn’t even call him, did you?” Laurent asked.

“I-“

“I know, I know,” Laurent said, waving a hand as he shook his head, stepping towards the wide desk. “Touars can be a little scary to deal with,” he raised a shoulder. “For you. Now, I will give you two months to find another job and then you can tell anyone who cares that you resigned. A fair deal?”

He took the book that was in Guion’s hands before Guion could blink, handing it off to Damen as he walked past him and out the office. 

“What’s his twenty?” Laurent asked, causing Damen to look over his shoulder quickly. 

“He’s moving,” Damen muttered, watching as Guion moved rapidly around his desk and stalked after them with his fists clenched at his sides. Damen nearly turned around and told Guion to quit while he was ahead, but props didn’t help. Let Laurent deal with the unavoidable outburst himself. 

“Don’t do it Guion,” Laurent mumbled under his breath, unflinching as the door flew open behind them. 

“You _cast iron bitch_ ,” Guion bellowed, a middle aged man reduced to yelling in a crowded office at someone in their twenties. The entirety of the room quieted down immediately, a few voices murmuring around them as eyes peered over their computers. 

“You can’t fire me!” Guion continued, Laurent turning around with his lips pressed together, an elbow leaned on the edge of one of the cubes, waving a hand forward like inviting Guion’s outburst. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? Sandbagging me on this Oprah ordeal just so you could look good to the board, hoping this would distract them from seeing how unfit you are in your position? How threatened you are?”

Damen frowned, holding himself back in a different way now. Laurent was a compilation of many unpleasant things, but unfit or unskilled at what he did was the least of them. He glanced at Laurent to see that his smile from earlier had returned. 

“You are a monster!” Guion added, loosing any sympathy Damen may have held for him as he watched a grown adult act as if screaming resentfully was the way anyone truly capable or worthy accomplished anything.

“Guion, stop,” Laurent tried.

“Just because you have no semblance of a life,” Guion continued, idiotically, “outside of this office, you think that you can treat us all like your own personal slaves. ” Laurent blinked, a handful of people turning away at that. 

If Guion was as smart as he seemed to think he was, he would quit while he was ahead, lower his head and retreat to his office, doing as much as he could to salvage the reputation that Laurent was surely going to dismantle with his own hands. Instead, he raised his chin higher and took a haughty, empowered step forward. “You are _just_ like he said you were,” he went on, ambiguously. “A parasite. You wouldn’t last a day without your conniving, and everyone knows that you are nothing more than a shadow of Auguste.”

His words caused Damen’s brows to pinch again, his gaze swinging right back to Laurent. Damen took it upon himself to know all of Laurent’s professional business, anyone that may act as a link between Laurent and Guion, or anyone that would walk through his office doors. The name rang no bells in his ears, but Laurent’s face gave nothing away, his eyes void of emotion.

“You know what?” Guion added. “I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’re going to have on your deathbed? Nothing, and no one.” He pointed to Laurent like punctuating the sentence, and Damen pressed his lips together as Laurent stepped forward slowly, his expression still. 

“Listen carefully, Guion,” Laurent said, in a voice so calm that Damen felt like his own job was being threatened. He had suffered hours and arguments with Laurent and had been on the opposite end of that look enough to know that that composure in his expression meant Guion was better off if Laurent was screaming back at him.

“I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened,” Laurent said. “I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent, and you spend more time cheating on your wife than you do in the office. And if you say another word, Damianos is going to have you thrown out into the street and I’ll be sure every prospective job will be privy to the documents in your bottom drawer. _Another word_ ,” he repeated when Guion opened his mouth to argue. When he said nothing and simply stood there, arms fallen at his side as his face turned red, Laurent took a step away. “I didn’t think so. I have work to do.” 

Damen stood up from the seat he had taken and followed after Laurent, noticing all the people who were slowly returning to their work, eyes still slightly widened. 

“Have security take the painting from his office and put in mine,” Laurent said.

“Will do,” Damen replied.

“And I’ll need you around this weekend to review his files and go over his manuscript.”

“This weekend?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Laurent asked, already stepping into his office and placing his hand on the door.

“No, I-“ Damen said. “It’s just my mother’s birthday so I was gonna go home and…” 

He received Laurent’s back as a response, walking off and towards his desk while tossing a, “shut the door,” over his shoulder. Damen nodded his head, trying not to smash one of the lamps lining the wall with his fist. 

“It’s fine, I’ll cancel it,” he said, muttering to himself as he pulled the door shut and made his way over to his own desk, reminding himself of the light at the end of the tunnel. Just a little more effort, hopefully no more than a few more months of being a sidekick, and he was free of Laurent for good. 

 

Laurent stood up from his spot, deleting the final batch of emails before clicking out of the browser, pushing away from his desk. He exhaled as he tapped his fingers, listening to the beat they made as he looked around his office, drawing in another breath before stepping to the door and pulling it open softly. He leaned a shoulder on the threshold; his arms crossed loosely as he just stood there, giving himself a few seconds to just look before walking over. 

Damen was hunched forward on one of his elbows, his forehead pressed against his palm as he replied to whoever it was on the other end in hushed tones, head shaking. 

“-Worked too hard to throw it all away, okay?” He whispered, dropping his hand. “I’m sure that dad is pissed, but we take all of our submissions around here very seriously, we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.” He shut the phone, shaking his head again like he had enough of persistent aspiring authors.

“Is that your family?” Laurent asked.

“Yes,” Damen sighed.

“Have they told you to quit?”

“Every single day,” Damen replied, picking the phone up as he held Laurent’s eyes. “Laurent R’s office.” Laurent looked away, glancing up at the ceiling impatiently as he waited.

“Oh-” Damen said. “Yes. Okay, all right.” He hung up, turning back to Laurent. “Herode and Jeurre want to see you upstairs immediately.”

Laurent pinched the skin between his brows, making a low sound of irritation before nodding his head, tapping the desk once. “Come get me in ten minutes,” he said. “We have a lot to do.”

“All right,” Damen said, picking the phone up again as Laurent walked away. 

The elevator ride was short and blissfully empty, making the usual _ping_ sound as the tenth floor lit up, the doors separating to show the wide walkway leading into the office at the opposite end, brown double doors pushing open with ease. 

“Herode, Jeurre,” Laurent said, shutting the doors behind him as he stepped in toward the two men, Herode sitting at the desk and Jeurre standing beside it.

“Laurent, congratulations on Oprah,” Herode said, smiling at Laurent politely.

“Thank you,” Laurent replied, looking between the two men, eager to get back down to the pile of work waiting on his desk.

“Laurent,” Herode said, peering through his glasses at the papers in his hands, glancing up after reading a few lines. “Do you remember when we agreed that you wouldn’t go to the Bazal book fair because you weren’t allowed out of the country while your visa application was being processed?”

“Yes, I do,” Laurent said, ignoring the odd, pinching sensation he could feel in the pit of his stomach.

“And…” Herode said, setting the papers down and looking at Laurent with something resembling an apology, a look that did nothing to reduce the gnawing. “You went to Bazal.”

“I did,” Laurent nodded. “We were going to loose Erasmus to Patras, I didn’t really have a choice, did I?”

“Well, it seems that the Artesian government doesn’t care much who published Erasmus.” 

“We just spoke to your immigration attorney,” Jeurre interjected, lifting one of the papers himself.

“Good,” Laurent said, trying to see things clearly despite the way it felt like his vision was narrowing into a long, dark tunnel, his fingers digging into the backrest of the chair he was leaning on. “So, we’re all set here?”

“Laurent,” Herode removed his glasses. “Your visa application has been denied.” And before Laurent could manage to speak through the clutch on his lungs, “You are being deported.” 

The clock on the wall may have stopped ticking, Laurent’s fingers threatening to push through the material of the chair and rip the fabric, his entire perception of the room going hazy for a moment. He was- 

“ _Deported_?” Laurent repeated, the word sounding distant, too loud.

“And apparently there was also paperwork you never got around to filling out,” Herode continued, shaking his head as he set everything down one final time, looking up at Laurent with a form of pity that made his stomach turn over anew. _Paperwork?_ Laurent wasn’t someone who forgot paperwork, there had to be-

“Honestly,” Laurent said, feeling like everything he had built and worked for was slipping out of his grasp by the minute. ”It’s not like I’m even an immigrant! I’m Veretian, for heaven’s sake,” he said, motioning to the window, trying to push down the growing hysteria that he refused to feel for years now. “There must be something we can do.”

“We can reapply,” Jeurre offered. “But unfortunately, you have to leave the country for at least a year.”

Laurent’s mind felt a little numb, over flooded with what felt like quicksand in his bloodstream. 

“All right,” Laurent said, aware that he was nodding a bit erratically. “All right, that’s not ideal, but I can manage everything from Arles-“ 

“No, Laurent-“ 

“Video conferencing and internet, I can-“

“Unfortunately, Laurent,” Jeurre said. “If you’re deported, you can’t work for an Artesian company.”

To Laurent’s complete horror, Herode added, “Until this matter is resolved I’m going to have to turn operations over to Guion.”

Laurent felt something sour make its way down his throat, the vey thought alone of that weak, disloyal rodent running his firm compromising his ability to breathe for a second. He narrowed his eyes.

“Guion,” he repeated. “The man I just fired?” 

“We need an editor in chief, he’s the only person in the building with enough experience.”

“This is ridiculous,” Laurent said, unable to believe that something like this was getting in his way. 

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t possibly be happening. Laurent could see it all: years of hard work, of leering looks that suggested that he did nothing more than fuck his way to the top, all for naught. Every promise he had made to himself, to his brother, to all the monsters that used to live inside him and convince him that he wouldn’t make it. They were all going to win, because Laurent was entirely out of options. 

“We are desperate to have you stay,” Herode said, and the fact that he was most likely being genuine made the situation worse, because it would get Laurent nowhere. Plenty of people had good intentions, but in the end of the day you could only look out for yourself. “You’ve been an asset here, it’s been a pleasure to watch you climb the ranks. If there was any way that we could make this work, we would be doing it.”

“You-“

Laurent felt his heart begin to bang inside his chest, only realizing that that _thump thump thump_ had been the door when Herode looked over his should inquisitively, frowning like company was the oddest thing in the world. Laurent stopped mid sentence, turning around in an angered jerk with the intention of ridding of the person with his eyes alone, his aggravation only magnifying when he saw who it was poking their head in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Damen said, looking between the three of them with only half of his body leaned in.

“What?” Laurent said as calmly as possible, reminding himself that eviscerating his assistant in front of the board members would only worsen things for him. Probably. 

“Ianora from Kesus’ office called, she’s on the line,” Damen said, going on with his mundane updates as if Laurent wasn’t about to lose everything.

“I know,” Laurent pushed out.

“She’s on hold-“

“ _All right_ ,” Laurent said, questioning why he ever kept this idiot by his side for so long, increasingly so when he realized Damen was still fucking talking. 

“-She said she needs to speak to you right away, even when I told her you were otherwise engaged.”

Like a record player cutting out, or more appropriately two cars crashing together, Laurent felt the exact moment everything stopped, the whirling thoughts in his mind stalling, pausing, slowly reversing so that the hysteria died down, whatever expression he wore on his face slipping into some placid form of serenity as the next year of Laurent’s life became perfectly, unmistakably crystal clear. 

Damen was still talking as he continued on with his explanation, but Laurent watched as his lips slowed down and his sentence trailed off, brows slowly drawing together as he looked at Laurent with an amusing combination of confusion, anticipation and nerves. 

Laurent’s thoughts were moving again, this time in a smoothly progressive speed in which he began to factor in everything that had to be done. Dates, conversations and settlements, trying to remember what day city hall was the emptiest. 

Damen pointed behind him curiously, taking a tiny step back in question as he waited for Laurent to dismiss him. His eyes kept wandering around the room, looking the way he tended to when he and Laurent would spend hours together working alone in his office and would stare before every response to each of Laurent’s questions like he was being tested.

Laurent flicked his eyes down to the spot in front of him swiftly, receiving nothing more than another frown. He widened his eyes slightly, jutting his chin down again while mouthing, “ _come here_ ,” as inconspicuously as he could. A second, another second and then Damen’s eyes widened, straightening himself out before he stepped inside, the door shutting behind him. Laurent turned to face Herode and Jeurre, silently hoping that Damen was a good actor, or at the very least good at taking on a fake role.

“Gentlemen,” Laurent said, placing his hands together as he straightened himself, a sort of tranquility in his voice now. Behind him he could hear Damen walking towards Laurent steadily, moving like he was navigating his way through a minefield and not a ten-foot office. “I understand the predicament we are in, and I acknowledge the severity of it. And while I know the timing is a bit hasty, I believe there’s something we need to tell you.” Laurent didn’t think he had used to word _we_ since he was thirteen years old.

Herode and Jeurre exchanged a look, Herode leaning forward in his seat as he waited expectantly, waving a hand for Laurent to go on. Laurent’s lips were together, his memory trying to conjure snippets of any book he may have read that could fit this moment, any small bit of inspiration he could pull on. This was a business deal and nothing more; an insurance policy to secure all that mattered to him. The last thing Laurent felt like doing was stammering or acting as if this was some form of exciting news that he so giddily couldn’t manage to get out, but instinct told him that was what would be the most effective. 

Taking in a small, unnoticeable breath, Laurent turned his body and looked up, up, meeting Damen’s large, unsettled eyes as he spread his lips into the soft, slow curling smile that he knew would land Damen right where he needed him: silent, still, eyes not straying from Laurent for a second.

“We…” Laurent said, estimating a two second pause where he himself looked nowhere else was appropriate. “We’re getting married.”

Silence. Laurent could hear all of their breathing, the mood of the room shifting as he turned to look at Herode and Jeurre with a small, bashful smile. He turned right back at Damen like he just couldn’t possibly look away, watching as he blinked like trying to get something out of his eye. 

“We-“

“Us,” Laurent nodded, taking a step closer. “We’re getting married.”

“Married,” Damen replied, his voice lifting so that is sounded like a question, like he was waiting for Laurent to elaborate on what, quite frankly, Laurent thought was very clear. Seeing that Damen needed a distraction, Laurent reached a hand out and tapped his chest twice, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it seemed and wondering why it felt like he just touched a brick wall.

“It’s true,” Laurent continued, hoping that if he spoke enough he would distract everyone from whatever crisis Damen seemed to be having, his expression alternating between a twitch, a confused glaze and a gaping mouth. He turned to Herode, immediately noting that he seemed wary, not doubtful. “It’s true. Damianos- Damen and I,” he corrected, earing another set of rapid blinking. “We’re just two people who weren’t meant to fall in love but did.”

“What-“ Damen started.

“What could we do?” Laurent corrected with another tap on Damen’s chest, this one possibly looking more like a shove. “Nothing,” Laurent concluded, a slight shake of his head. “It was truly out of our hands. All those late nights at the office, those weekend book fairs.” Those extra hours and coffee runs and sandwiches Laurent would find waiting on his desk when he was too busy working to think of food. 

Not that they mattered, they were in the job description.

“What else can we say?” Laurent asked, his smile spreading in genuineness when he saw the slow, barely there nod Jeurre likely thought was subtle. “Something… happened between us.”

“Something,” Damen repeated.

“We tried to fight it,” Laurent continued, and he might have wrapped an arm around Damen’s shoulder for show if he could properly reach it. “But I was helpless from the first time I saw him.”

The prolonged silence at that was nearly humorous, and Laurent was grateful for the nature of which the conversation was unfolding, his abrupt, unprepared declaration of love to the board certainly enough to justify the heat he could feel spread across his cheeks.

“Laurent-“ Damen began, his tone finally finding the assertiveness that Laurent very well knew he possessed, once he got over the initial shock of things. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” Laurent blinked up at him, that thankfully stunning Damen into indefinite silence, mouth finally clamping shut. The sooner he stopped trying to figure things out, the sooner they would be out of there and on their way.

“Laurent,” Herode said, prompting Laurent to face him, his body simmering with satisfaction when he saw the way Herode was looking at him like a beloved grandson had just told him of his impending engagement. “I think it’s wonderful.”

“It certainly is,” Laurent agreed, bless Artesian laws and loopholes. 

“Just,” Herode continued, motioning towards the papers on the desk and then his own fingers “Make it all legal.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Laurent said, raising his voice a bit to drown out the strained sound Damen had made at the word legal. He brought his hand to a more neutral spot on Damen’s shoulder, clenching his fingers and taking his own step back in a way that said _move_. “Thank you, gentlemen. We’ll be on our way and out of your hair.” 

“We,” Damen repeated, taking a blind step back and nearly bumping into a chair. Laurent laughed and turned his head, waving a hand in Herode and Jeurre’s direction who were smiling after the two of them like they were waiting for this to happen all along. 

“He’s still excited,” Laurent explained to them, giving Damen another shove to the door. “Lets go, dear.”

Damen finally seemed to regain control of his legs, turning around abruptly and making for the door, moving at a speed like he could outrun whatever Laurent was inevitably going to tell him. Laurent exchanged one last parting with Herode and Jeurre before following Damen towards the elevator.

 

Damen briefly considered that he had simply forgotten a certain conversation with Laurent. 

That was the only possible explanation. Laurent tended to repeat things, to speak to Damen as if he was an idiot and needed assignments to be reiterated when one time was more than enough, and Damen in turn tended to block him out some of the time, slightly ignoring certain things he said when it was clear that Laurent was just trying to be difficult. Maybe there had been a plan. Maybe Laurent had slipped in some mention of whatever it was that had just happened in Herode’s office. That was what Damen kept on repeating to himself as he winded his way though all of the desks in the main office, following behind the head that was infuriatingly held high, blatantly ignoring all of Damen’s inquiring looks on their way down.

Damen shut the door to Laurent’s office behind them, a hand remaining on the knob for a moment as he ran through the conversation, bits and words hitting him and only confusing him more with each passing second. He remained where he was and turned, somehow shocked to find Laurent casually at his desk, writing something inside a notebook like he wasn’t even aware of Damen’s presence. 

Damen took the few steps forward, stopping in front of Laurent’s desk and waiting, watching as Laurent shut the book and set It aside, pulling a rubber band off a stack of papers and immediately beginning to sift through them. Damen placed both of his palms on Laurent’s desk, leaning forward just enough that he cast a shadow on the stack.

Laurent kept his head down and glanced up only with his eyes, holding Damen’s gaze for a flash before looking back down, eyes wandering right back up like he had expected for that singular acknowledgment to be enough. 

“What?” he said, immediately returning to his work.

Damen looked around the office, the high windows and the deep, nearly black furniture, his eyes falling back on this infuriating enigma of a person before him. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” he said, plainly.

Laurent looked over Damen’s shoulder towards the door like he could see where they had just been, turning back with a puzzled look. “Which part is confusing you?”

“Laurent.”

“Relax,” Laurent uncapped a pen. “This is for you too.”

“Do explain,” he said, feeling the rise of his voice in his chest. 

“They were going to make Guion the chief,” Laurent replied as he circled a paragraph, drawing an arrow beside it and scribbling down a few words. 

Damen thought he might actually go through with it and strangle him for once. “So naturally,” he replied. “I would have to marry you.”

“And the problem?” Laurent said, lifting an elbow to the desk. “Did you think you were saving yourself for someone special?” his lips curled around the word like it was funny to him, like the very prospect was a joke.

“Maybe I was,” Damen replied. He had no idea if marriage was even something that interested him, but that was hardly Laurent’s business. Damen liked people, he liked meeting them and having harmless fun with them, something Laurent didn’t seem to have a grasp on. “Besides,” he added, still not entirely understanding how someone as smart as Laurent was being so stupid. “It’s illegal.”

Laurent laughed at that, a short, breathy sound that Damen heard so rarely he could probably count on one hand. “Please,” he said. “They’re looking for terrorists, not for book publishers.”

Damen closed his eyes. Took a deep, slow breath, one that did absolutely nothing to tamper down even a fraction of his irritation. “Laurent,” he said, in an achingly calm voice. The very fact that this entire conversation was taking place was ridiculous, and if Laurent didn’t look up at him in another second he was going to shake him.

“Yes?”

“I’m not going to marry you.” 

“Of course you are,” Laurent nearly trilled. “Because if you don’t marry me, your dreams of touching the lives of millions with the written word are dead.” And then he finally lifted his head, smiling at Damen so pleasantly that Damen nearly preferred for him to look back down.

“Listen to me,” Laurent said before Damen could speak, pushing the papers aside and leaning forward in the same way Damen had. “I know Guion. I know how he thinks and how he works, and he was going to fire you the instant he took this seat, and you would be out on the street looking for a job. That would mean all of the time you and I have spent together would be for nothing.” 

He leaned his chin on his palm. “All of the weekends in the office, all of the lattes you’ve pretended to enjoy, all of the cancelled dates or whatever it is that you do would have been no more than a few wasted months of each other’s forced company, and all of your dreams of being an editor are gone. But don’t worry,” he added, lifting a hand when Damen opened his mouth. “After the required allotment of time, we’ll get a quick divorce and you’ll be done with me, but until then, your wagon is hitched to mine.” 

Laurent plunked his pen back into the overstuffed cup, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms as he quirked a brow. “Don’t look so glum, sweetheart,” he said. “We’re going to be married.”

Damen felt his fingers curl around the edge of the desk. He was out of his fucking mind. “You-“

“Phone,” Laurent said, pointing to the distant ringing sound before he spun his chair back around, turning his back on Damen as he clicked his computer back on.


	2. Chapter 2

Laurent remembered the first time he had seen Damen.

He had been in his office, reading over a book proposal from an up and coming author that Acquitart had recently acquired when his phone buzzed, Kyrina notifying him that his new assistant had arrived and was coming in to meet him, the third one that month. Torveld had been too busy gawking at Laurent to actually get anything done, Audin too unpleasant overall. Regardless, neither of them had been up to the job, capable enough to meet all of their demands, and the part of Laurent that wasn’t sick of the revolving door of incompetents was excited to see who it was this time.

He had paid no mind when the door opened, wanting to finish the paragraph he was on before getting down to business. Whoever it was had stepped up to his desk silently, patiently, casting a shadow over Laurent like he had been approached by a tree and not a person. Laurent had finished the final line, marked his spot and then pushed the bundle aside, looking up expectantly. 

The first thing Laurent had thought the first time he looked into Damen’s eyes was that he seemed more suited to work in a police station or a gym rather a small, respectable publishing office. The second thing was _oh, no._

And now he was marrying him. 

That was the constant, singular thought that kept playing in his head, the words like a flashing neon sign every time he closed his eyes, the pump of his blood and the throb of his pulse feeling like it was Damen’s name continuously echoing in his mind.

Laurent wasn’t stupid, he knew it would be in title only, that nothing was actually going to change. Not that he wanted things to change or that he would ever allow them to. The depth of Laurent’s depravity and the irritating buzzing he felt inside him, swarming in his stomach like ruthless wasps every time Damen looked at him was nothing that would ever be acknowledged, or validated. 

But the fact still stood. He was going to be married to this frustrating, over caring idiot. 

Laurent adjusted his body in the backset of the cab so that he was more comfortable, stretching a leg out in the minimal space in front of him, watching the way Damen’s knee wouldn’t stop shaking, his fingers tapping on the leather between them. He was alternating between looking out the window at the other passing cars, glaring at the back of the driver’s head like this was all his doing and turning that scowl on Laurent, looking at him like a chained up lion.

“Is there a problem?” Laurent asked.

“Yes,” Damen said. “Every single decision I’ve made since I’ve stepped into your office.” 

“Does that include the decision of wearing that tie this morning?” 

“This isn’t mine,” Damen replied. “I had to bribe someone into giving me their shirt because your fucking coffee spilled all over me.”

“Oh my,” Laurent said. “What happened to my polite, doting assistant?”

“He was coerced into marrying his psychotic boss.”

“’Psychotic’?” Laurent repeated. “My endearment for you was far nicer.” He felt his lips twitch at the way Damen’s features etched in anger, his displeasure somehow managing to grow. “Are we going to be the kind of husbands that playfully bicker all the time?”

Laurent saw the way Damen’s fingers tightened on the handle of the car door, his nostrils flaring as he pressed his lips together. Laurent cocked his head to the side, otherwise remaining motionless as Damen said, “you’re a terrible person.”

Laurent tipped his head back and he closed his eyes, the ratty leather cold against the back of his neck as he inhaled, calling on all of his patience before he opened his eyes again, certain that every drip of the lack of amusement that he felt was showing on his face.

“Are you done?”

“Are you kidding me?” Damen said. When Laurent simply stared at him he said, “How are you so sure I’m not just going to tell them of your intentions the instant we walk into that immigration office?”

Laurent dragged a hand down his mouth, shifting his body so he was properly looking into his eyes. “First of all,” he started, lowering his voice so the driver couldn’t hear them. “No one is coercing you into anything, you’re free to open that door at the next light and walk back to the office, collect your things and get a start on finding a new job whenever you like. Second,” he said, raising his voice just a pinch to shut up whatever comment Damen was about to make. “You and I both know that your decision on the matter had been made in the office when I presented the situation to you, now stop wasting our time with your pouts and posturing and accept that this is our fate for the next year.”

When a muscle in Damen’s jaw clenched he added, “If it makes you feel better, I don’t want to be legally binded to you any more than you do to me.”

Damen turned so he was facing forward, his eyes on the building as the driver pulled up to the sidewalk. “It’s all just so dishonest.” 

Lovely, another ridiculously humane trait for Laurent to suppress. He tossed the driver the appropriate amount of cash and pulled himself out, not waiting for Damen as he began to make his way to the entrance.

“Listen to me,” Laurent whispered as they stood side by side on line, four people away from the man at the desk. “I saw your attempt at falsity in Herode’s office earlier. If we have any chance at this working, you keep the talking to a minimum and let me handle this.”

Damen looked like Laurent had personally offended him. “I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself.”

“Next,” The man at the front desk said, thankfully saving Laurent from continuing on that futile conversation.

“Hello,” Laurent said, leaning his elbows down on the table as he slid the manila envelope towards him. “I need for you to file this fiancé visa for me, please.”

The man slid the first paper out and read the first few lines, his eyes flicking between Laurent and the form a few times before saying, “Laurent R?”

“Yes.”

“Please,” he said, sliding the papers back in and crooking a finger inwards. “Come with me.”

Laurent felt Damen stiffen beside him, his entire body tensing as he stood up straighter. “Relax,” Laurent hissed over his shoulder as he followed the man towards a smaller office, walking in with Damen behind him and taking a seat as they waited, the man going to fetch someone. 

Damen had sat down in the chair beside him, his fingers gripping the edge as they looked around the room. Laurent got the indication that Damen was a man of action, that he worked best when things were under his control and he could bend them to his own will. If this whole ordeal didn’t put everything for Laurent on the line, he might have drawn things out just to amuse himself with Damen’s reactions.

They heard three swift knocks on the door, turning just in time to see a middle aged woman walk into the office, the envelop that Laurent had handed the man in her hands. She had dark, tangled hair, her well built form showing through the curves of her sleek suit. 

“Hello,” she said, shutting the door behind her and remaining there with an arm still on the knob, head turning from side to side as she eyed the two of them. “I’m Halvik.”

“A pleasure,” Laurent said.

“You must be Laurent,” she said, the pronunciation of his name altered by her thick accent. If Laurent were to guess, he would say she was Vaskian. “And you Damianos.”

“Yes,” Damen said, eagerly.

“My apologies for the wait,” she said, making her way around the clutter on the ground and stopping at the front of her desk, setting the file down. “It’s been a hectic day.”

“It’s entirely fine,” Laurent said. “We just appreciate that you cold see us on such short notice.”

Halvik smiled at them thinly, her flinty, black gaze alternating between the two of them again as she sat herself down, opening the folder and pulling the papers out. She leaned back in her chair, tapping her nails on the edge of the desk in halting beats as she clucked her tongue, turning her head this way and that before looking up at Laurent. 

“I have a single question for you,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Are you both committing fraud to avoid his deportation so he can keep his position as editor in chief at _Acquitart Publishing_?” Her tongue curled harshly around the word _Acquitart_. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Damen said loudly.

Laurent fought the urge to kick him in the shin, formally coming to the understanding that he was going to have to teach Damen a thing or two about lying. Or just conversing. 

“Where would you hear that?” Laurent asked, though he knew the second she opened her mouth, having anticipated this the instant they entered the cab. He only thought she would wait until the end of the meeting to get their hopes of success up just a little.

Halvik turned the paper over and looked at a note that had been scribbled at the top, written in bright red ink. “We received a phone tip from a man today-“

“If I may,” Laurent interjected. “Would this man happened to have been Guion?”

“Guion,” she nodded in agreement, tapping the name twice.

“Guion,” Laurent repeated dourly. He was going to have Guion mutilated. “I apologize,” he said, gesturing to where she had written Guion’s sad attempt at a win. “Guion is a disgruntled former employee. He was one of my best men on the job, and unfortunately I had to let him go after a few morality issues came to light.” He was aware of Damen shifting in his seat.

“Morality issues,” Halvik repeated.

“That’s correct,” Laurent said, wishing that he truly was just making up a farce. “However, Damen and I can see how busy you are today, so if you’ll give us our next step we’ll be out of your way immediately.”

“Laurent,” Halvik said, leaning forward over her desk and placing one hand on top of the other. “I don’t tell you how to run a publishing company. May I do my job?”

Laurent grinned, the impassive hold of her eyes nearly a match for his own. “Of course.”

”I’m going to explain to the two of you how we’re going to proceed. Step one will be a scheduled interview. I’ll put you each in a room and ask you every little question,” she said, pinching her thumb and forefinger together, “that a real couple would know about each other. Step two: I dig deeper. I will look at your phone records. I talk to your neighbors. I interview your coworkers. If your answers don’t match up at every single point, you,” she pointed to Laurent, “will be deported indefinitely and you,“ She pointed to Damen, “will have committed a felony punishable by a fine of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and a stay of five years in federal prison.”

“So,” she said, looking at the two of them like the ball had just dropped, like they were going to take back everything they said at once. Laurent continued to look at her, unwaveringly, waiting to see how she tried to challenge him next. After a few moments she saw that their stare off was futile and turned her dark gaze to Damen in which Laurent thought, _we’re fucked._

Laurent turned in his seat to look at Damen as well, hoping that at least an ounce of Laurent’s temperament had seeped into him in the months they had worked together, thought the way Damen’s eyes wouldn’t stop moving didn’t make him feel very confident on the matter, nor did the way his head had snapped up at the word _fraud._

“Damianos,” Halvik said, tilting in his direction. “Is there anything you’d like to say to me?”

Damen was silent, and Laurent could nearly feel both his disapproval and his inability to lie rolling off him in waves. The longer they waited for him to respond, the more hopeless the situation felt. 

Finally, Damen cleared his throat, licking his lips before he spoke. “The truth is,” he said, and Laurent tried to remember why he had chosen this noble buffoon of all people to rope into his problems. “Laurent and I were just two people who weren’t meant to fall in love, but did.” 

Laurent could feel the roll of his throat, and he turned away and faced Halvik before his expression showed something that was meant to be locked down and ignored and hopefully diminished in the very near future. Laurent could feel the first stirrings of hope in his chest, along with an undeniable amount of appreciation.

“We couldn’t tell anyone we worked with,” Damen continued, “because of my big promotion that I had coming up.”

Appreciation was a frivolous thing.

“Promotion?” Halvik said, only a second after Laurent.

“That’s right,” Damen nodded. “We both felt that it would be inappropriate to be promoted to editor if everyone we worked with knew that we were, you know,” he placed a hand on Laurent’s knee. “Lovers.”

Laurent’s put his hand on top of Damen’s, a blink away from digging a nail into his skin. “Editor,” he said.

“Don’t be bashful, sweetheart,” Damen said. “You told me I would be great for the position.”

“And tell me,” Halvik reached for a pen. “Does your family know about your secret love affair?”

“My family is dead,” Laurent said. He removed his hand.

“Brothers?” she inquired. “Sisters?”

“I said dead.” Damen removed his hand.

“And yours?” She motioned to Damen.

“Oh, no,” Laurent replied. “His parents are very much alive. We were actually going to tell them this weekend. It’s his mother’s birthday, everyone will be coming together. We thought it would be a nice surprise.” He could feel Damen looking at him.

“And where was this get together going to take place?”

“At Damen’s parents house.”

“And where is that located exactly?” She asked.

Laurent laughed shortly, turning to look at Damen as well. “Why am I doing all of the talking?” he said. “It’s your family, why don’t you tell them where it is, dear.” Laurent smiled.

Damen smiled back. “Akielos.”

”Akielos,” Laurent repeated, hearing the way the _s_ stretched out and consciously stopping himself. _Akielos_.

Halvik’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to Akielos this weekend.”

“We are,” Laurent replied, reaching out to pat Damen’s shoulder and jabbing him in the neck instead. “That’s where my Damen is from.”

Halvik looked at them for a stretch before laughing to herself, shaking her head and pulling a new stack of papers in front of her. “All right,” she sad. “I see how the three of us are going to go about this.” She reached for a pad of sticky notes and began to write something down. “I’ll see the two of you next Monday at eleven o’clock for your scheduled interview.” She ripped the top note off and handed it to Damen, standing from her seat. “And your answers better match up.”

“We’ll see you then,” Damen said, taking the paper and standing up as well. 

As the two of them pulled the door open she called out, “I’ll be checking up on the two of you.”

Outside, Laurent swiped in his password and began looking through his schedule, already working through everything he had intended to do that week and arranging what could be done abroad and what needed to be pushed. He could see Damen walking in front of him from the corner of his eye and figured he should give him something to do to busy his mind. 

“All right,” Laurent said, tapping on a phone conference in his calendar and dragging it to the fourteenth. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll head out tomorrow morning on the first flight. We’ll pretend like we’re boyfriends and tell your parents we’re engaged as soon as possible. Oh,” he remembered. “Use the miles, I don’t want to-“

He paused as he looked up from his phone and saw Damen just standing there, staring at Laurent like he had changed languages. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Damen said. “Did you not hear a single thing she just said in there?”

Laurent looked over his shoulder to the door. “Which part?”

Damen’s face contorted so that his mouth set into a grim line, his eyes darkening as he took a step forward. “Laurent.”

“Oh,” Laurent locked his phone. “Your story about your promotion? That was brilliant, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“It wasn’t a story,” Damen said. “I’m serious, I’m looking at a fine and jail time, that changes everything.”

“I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” Laurent said. When Damen arched a brow he said, “I’m not making you editor.”

“Then I quit and you’re on your own, have a good life in Vere.” He turned on his heel and began walking down the sidewalk, and Laurent could feel the way his fingers curled around his phone, his mind running through all of his options before he realized he had none.

“All right. _All right_ ,” he said louder when Damen kept walking, only stopping at the second call. He stayed where he was and turned his head to look at Laurent, Waiting for Laurent to wave an impatient hand, arms crossed after.

“Fine,” Laurent said. “Do this week in Akielos and the immigration interview and I will make you editor. Are you happy?”

“And not in two years,” Damen said. “Right away.”

Laurent set his jaw. “Fine.”

“And you’ll publish my manuscript.”

Laurent pursed his lips, lifting a shoulder. “Ten thousand copies, first-“

“Twenty thousand copies,” Damen spoke over him. “First run. And we’ll tell my family about our engagement how I want and when I want. Now,” he said. “Ask me nicely.” 

Laurent thought he might grind his teeth to dust. “Ask you nicely, what?” 

“Ask me nicely to marry you, Laurent.”

Laurent looked at him blankly, staring at him in belated silence. “What does that even _mean_?”

“You heard me,” Damen said, nodding to the ground with his chin. “On your knee.”

He was out of his mind. Laurent felt himself blink rapidly, his lashes fluttering in his eyes as Damen looked back at him patiently. “You’re not serious.” 

Damen smiled at him.

Laurent took in a low breath, tapping his fingers against his sides as he mentally told himself to repress his actions. He was aware of the people walking around them, the fact that they were in broad daylight as he dropped his bag, There was nothing malicious about the way Damen was looking at Laurent, his eyes light and playful. Laurent focused on that as he lowered himself to his left knee.

“Does this work for you?” Laurent asked. He had to crane his neck back.

“Oh this is nice, yeah.”

“I’m sure it is,” Laurent said. “So, will you marry me?”

“No,” Damen said. “Act like you mean it, I’ve seen you do it before.”

Laurent cleared his throat, blocking out every other thought threatening the edge of his vision as he focused only on the dimple in Damen’s cheek, the way he his hands were in his pockets as he smiled in that way he did when he didn’t realize he was being looked at. 

“Damen,” he said.

His smile deepened. “I didn’t know you knew my nickname.” 

“Don’t interrupt me.”

Damen waved a hand forward.

“Sweet, sweet Damen,” Laurent said, focusing now on literally anything else so his cheeks wouldn’t flush.

“Yes?”

“Would you please, with cherries on top marry me?”

Damen pressed his lips together, looking up at the trees for a few seconds before shrugging his shoulders. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I’ll do it.”

Laurent immediately began to push himself to his feet, ignoring the hand that Damen offered him and taking a step away as he dusted his pants off. Damen’s smile was immediately gone, shaking his head as he turned for the opposite block. “See you at the airport.” 

 

Damen remembered the first time he had seen Laurent.

He had made his way to the ninth floor, stepping out of the elevator with a sort of calm excitement as he walked over to the receptionist desk. It was his first day on the job, and Damen had heard good things about this publishing house, making his decision to choose one easier.

“He’s ready for you,” the women at the desk had said, pointing behind her towards a door at the end of the office. “Just go on in.”

“Thank you,” Damen said, looking around to all of the people working in their cubicles with a sort of diligence that had him nodding his head in approval. Damen appreciated hard work, and these people seemed to be working with a sort of vigor that suggested that failure was intolerable. A good philosophy. 

He pushed the door open, glancing around at all the lavish designs, his eyes on a painting of something that resembled a starburst before he stepped up to the desk, waiting for his new boss to finish whatever it was that he was reading. He had a pen in one hand, tapping the desk mindlessly as he turned a page, only a few lines left before he finally marked his place, pushing the bundle aside and looking up.

Damen remembered the way his mind immediately stalled, his focus entirely diverted by blue eyes and pink lips. Damen was just contemplating the pros and cons of combining a professional and romantic relationship when Laurent opened his mouth and began to spit venom.

And now he was marrying him. 

He was going to be married to this otherworldly, infuriating person who managed to surprise Damen every time he looked at him, both by how impossibly exasperating he could be and by how unbelievably striking he was. That, amongst many other things.

Damen had seen Laurent in his element, where he cultivated himself a certain way. With prospective authors, at book fairs and office parties, somehow stripping himself of all of his unpleasant attributes and becoming this charming, ethereal person. His intelligence was on clear display, his barb became wit and he always managed to be the most beautiful person in the room.

It was all an act. Laurent was a people pleaser when he wanted to be, most times opting to make all those around him miserable. Damen had to remind himself of that as he made his way through his apartment that night, his thoughts on the torturous week they had ahead of them. Damen was puling off his tie and undoing the buttons of his shirt when his phone rang on his dresser, his screen lighting up with _Nikandros._

“Hello?” Damen said, pressing the phone between cheek and shoulder as he pulled his shirt off and set it on the couch.

“Damen,” Nikandros said, his voice slightly muffled like he was out in public. “It’s good to finally hear from you. How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Damen replied, shrugging out of his pants. “What’s up?”

“I hear you’re coming in the end.”

“Yeah,” Damen said. “Plans changed, I’m flying in with Laurent tomorrow morning.”

After a pause, “Laurent.”

Damen sighed. “Yeah.”

“Laurent, your boss.”

“That’s the one.”

“All right,” he said. “And why are you bringing your boss to meet the family?”

Damen sat on the edge of the bed, resting his weight on his knees as he considered his words. “He-“ Damen said, but figured this definitely wasn’t the time to get into it, especially not with Nikandros. “We have work that can’t wait until I get back.”

“Work,” Nikandros repeated. The background was quieter now like he had stepped away from the noise. “How are your dreams of becoming a renowned editor coming, by the way?”

“They’re coming,” Damen said. “How’s my mom?”

“The same,” Nikandros said. “She misses you.”

“I know.”

He heard Nikandros pause again, these words coming out differently. “Everyone else is the same, too.”

“I didn’t ask about that,” Damen said. 

Nikandros began to speak but stopped himself, instead saying, “I told your mom I’d drive with her to the airport so she wouldn’t have to go alone.”

Damen smiled bitterly at the ground before saying, “It’s fine, we can cab to the hotel.”

Nikandros laughed, voice getting distant for a second as he switched ears. “You really think your mom is gonna have you back in her country and not keep you at the house?”

Damen laughed himself, looking at the time on the clock above his bed before standing up. “I have a lot to do before the flight,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right,” Nikandros said. “Later, Damen.”

“Bye.”

 

It was early when Damen and Laurent boarded the plane the next morning, nearly seven in the morning, orange and yellow glowing through the thin slits of the windows. It was lucky for them that Laurent preferred the window seat. As it was, Damen was struggling to arrange himself in the small amount of space, his right arm and leg half out in the aisle. Laurent was trying to implement as much space between them as possible, the prospect of their sides pressing together for five hours a little bit too appealing. 

It was nearly half an hour until landing and Damen was holding a pale blue folder, flipping through the pages with his chin balanced on his fist. “All right,” he said. “These are the questions that INS are going to ask us in our interview. The good news is that I already know all these things about you, but you have about a week to learn all these things about me. So.” He dropped the folder on Laurent’s lap.

Laurent turned it over to see if anything was written on either side before opening it, his eyes widening slightly at the long list of questions, page after page of them. Laurent’s eyes scrolled up and down as he turned one over, catching a few of them as he went. _Favorite season. Cologne/perfume. Secondary languages. Desired locations of travel. Pet peeves._ There was absolutely no way Damen knew any of these things about him.

Laurent glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “You know all of these answers?”

“Scary, isn’t it.” When Laurent continued to look at him dubiously he rolled his eyes. “Try me.”

Laurent looked back at the papers, rubbing the edge between his fingers as he searched. “What am I allergic to?” he asked, turning to Damen.

“Pine nuts,” Damen said, answering like he was waiting for that very question. “And the full spectrum of human emotion.”

“Funny,” Laurent said. He turned his attention back to the questions and moved his finger down the line before he stopped at once, not seeing any way Damen could know this. “Do I have any scars?”

“On your left shoulder,” Damen replied. “And I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo.”

Laurent just blinked at him. 

“Am I wrong?”

“How do you know I have a scar?” Laurent asked, not liking how incredulous he sounded. He had never even worn short sleeves to the office, and his scar still wouldn’t be visible. 

“So that’s a no to the tattoo?”

Laurent shut the folder, keeping his finger in place. “Okay,” he said. “Humor me.”

Damen turned his body as much as he could, moving his leg so he could better face Laurent. “Your dermatologist called two months ago,” he said. “And asked about a Q-switched laser. I googled it and found and that they do in fact remove tattoos, but you cancelled your appointment.” Laurent thought the folder might tear between his fingers, but Damen didn’t seem to notice because he said, “So? What’s it of?”

“I’m sure you’d like to know,” Laurent said, forcing his eyes down and away. He refused to get into this.

“You’re going to have to tell me,” Damen persisted. “They’ll ask.” When Laurent continued to ignore him he said, “tramp stamp?”

Laurent almost smiled. Without looking up he said, “barbed wire.” 

“You’re too classy for that.”

“You just asked if I have a tattoo above my ass that’s socially linked with promiscuity.”

“I think you’re surprising,” Damen said. “Not derogatory.”

Laurent’s chest felt a little lighter as he flipped the page, tapping the second question. “Whose place do we stay at, yours or mine. That’s easy, mine.” 

“And why wouldn’t we stay at mine?” Damen asked.

“Because I stay at Varenne West,” Laurent replied. “And you probably live in some squalid little studio apartment with furniture that was there when you moved in and yellow paged classics.”

For some reason that made Damen smile, turning to look at the aisle as he muttered, “probably.”

Laurent looked at his watch, seeing that they still had time to kill before landing. He rested his wrist on the armrest between them as he decided on another question. “What’s my favorite color?”

“Blue,” Damen said, this time thinking on it for a moment. When Laurent didn’t dispute it he said, “anyone who’s been in your office could guess that.”

Laurent said nothing for a moment, testing the words in his head before saying, “do you have a favorite color?”

Damen blinked once, twice, a laugh slipping out from between his lips as he set his head back on the chair. “Wow,” he mused. “That almost sounded painful.”

_Forget it, I don’t care,_ Laurent nearly said. However. 

Damen rubbed at the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders after a second. “Red?”

“Is that a question?”

“I don’t know,” Damen said. “It’s just a color.”

“Everyone has a preferred color.”

Damen shrugged again. “So, red.” 

Laurent hummed. Red.

“Is that not what you expected?”

Laurent’s eyes moved down Damen’s body, thinking. It suited him. It was a strong, standout color. Still, he said, “I would have guessed something neutral.” 

Damen considered him. “Really.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Laurent said. “You’re- simple.”

“All right,” Damen said, lifting a shoulder in a nonchalant way. “I guess simple is better than plain.”

Damen was far from plain. “You’re that too.”

“And you’re ostentatious,” Damen grinned.

“Am I?” Laurent didn’t think he was. With the brother he grew up with, it was easy to blend into the background. 

Damen looked at him like the question was absurd. “You know you’re arresting.”

Right. Damen just wanted to fuck him. 

Oddly, his expression seemed to unsettle Damen because he shifted, something making him frown. “I didn’t mean-“ But the sound of the flight attendant on the PA cut him off.

_“Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. We are beginning our descent into Isthima.”_

“Isthima?” Laurent said as he reached for his buckle. “I thought you lived in Ios.”

“I do,” Damen replied, but he wasn’t really paying attention anymore. His gaze was passed Laurent, steady on the wide stretch of blue as his eyes filled with the ocean.


	3. Chapter 3

The island of Isthima was apparently not large enough to justify its own airport, therefore leading Damen and Laurent to get off the plane from steps that descended straight onto the tarmac, the amount of clothing the two of them had packed enough to fit in the overhead bins. 

Laurent felt the blazing sun the instant they stepped off the plane, beating down onto his skin and in his eyes, resisting the urge to squint or roll his sleeves up despite the fact that it was November. Damen had removed his own jacket and tossed it over a shoulder, his bare arms on display from the short sleeves of his white shirt, the olive tones of his skin more stark in comparison. Laurent tried not to watch as he hefted a heavy bag in both arms. 

“I’ll call for a cab,” Laurent said as they stepped down onto the runway.

“Don’t bother,” Damen murmured, notably distracted as he looked around the large clusters of waiting people. Looking for what exactly, Laurent didn’t know.

“What-“

“We’re getting picked up,” Damen said, apparently finding whoever it was because he changed his grip on the handles, leaving Laurent with nothing to do but follow. Laurent gripped his own bag as he walked after him, his eyes moving around until he spotted two people standing at the end of the lane, the excitement on their faces palpable. Damen’s steps sped up slightly as he neared them, Laurent hanging back a few paces as Damen and the man clapped each other on the shoulder before he brought his arms around the smiling woman, nearly lifting her off the ground.

She had to be his mother. She was tall. Not as tall as Damen, but no one was as tall as Damen. She had the same dark, curly hair that fell down her back in thick waves, and it only took one glance to see that Damen had inherited his eyes from her. They eventually pulled apart, though she kept her hands on Damen’s cheeks and was murmuring something that Laurent couldn’t decipher from his distance. 

The man standing next to them was watching Laurent. He had an odd look on his face, one Laurent couldn’t decipher either, but it morphed into what was obvious displeasure when Laurent arched a brow at him. He was nearly a match for Damen in physique, and the similar coloring made Laurent wonder if they were brothers. It took Damen placing a hand on his shoulder for him to look away from Laurent and focus on Damen, his eyes now bright, lines softening. Laurent felt a bitter, acrid taste in his throat as he watched the three of them converse with familiarity, and he placed his eyes elsewhere until Damen turned to him.

“Laurent,” he said, extending a hand towards him. “This is my mom Egeria and my friend Nikandros. Mom, Nik, this is my boyfriend Laurent.”

Laurent’s gaze snapped to Damen, feeling just as thrown as the two of them appeared to look. He knew they had agreed on Damen disclosing the news of the engagement however he wanted, but they hadn’t even discussed when they would tell people that they were… together.

“What?” Egeria said.

“What?” Nikandros said.

Laurent stared at Damen for a few more seconds before he looked at them. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m sorry,” Egeria said after a moment, stepping forward and simply extending a hand, which Laurent appreciated. Her grip was firm and unwavering, though her eyes held the same warmth as he son’s. “I was just taken by surprise, Damianos never mentioned…” She trailed off, glancing at Damen. “I thought he was a serpent,” she said in Akielon, which Laurent understood, sparingly. He smiled.

“Did you say boyfriend?” Nikandros said.

“I did,” Damen said.

“We just spoke on the-“

“Where’s dad?” Damen asked.

Laurent watched as something in Egeria’s eyes wavered, and he saw Damen notice it as well. 

“You know your dad,” she said. “Busy work ethic.” She tapped Damen on the shoulder briefly before stepping closer to Laurent. “So,” she smiled, a large, intimating smile. “You’re dating my son.”

Laurent almost corrected her to _engaged to_ just to spite Damen. Instead he said, “I am.”

“How long?” Nikandros asked.

Laurent turned to him. “Did Damen forget to get your permission?”

“This is nice,” Damen said. “I’m glad we’re all bonding.”

“We have a whole week of bonding,” Egeria said, taking Laurent’s hand and tugging him along with her. Laurent reminded himself to not stare at the spot on his wrist that her fingers were curled around, his sheer surprise alone carrying his legs. Damen and Nikandros were walking beside them, making their way to a car where Nikandros slid into the diver’s seat, Egeria in the passenger.

Damen and Laurent were by the truck, lifting their bags into the back beside each other wordlessly. It had been three minutes in the company of others and Laurent could already feel the weight of the upcoming days.

“It’s going to be like this the whole week,” Damen said, like Laurent had voiced his thoughts aloud.

“What?” Laurent asked with narrowed eyes.

“I have an involved family,” Damen said. “And…. enthusiastic neighbors. Just keep that in mind.” He slammed the hood down and opened the door on his side before Laurent could reply. 

They drove down the narrow path, the car moving what felt dangerously close to the edge of the high cliffed road, the ocean an endless span of turquoise and green, seagulls flying above them and making shapes in the sky. Laurent could see the tumble of rocks, water crashing against the edges as they winded off the rise and eventually made their way into the main town, shops and strips of stores opening up around them. He could hear Egeria and Nikandros muttering to each other in Akielon.

They drove past a hardware store, a furniture store, a café and a liquor store, each one holding the same family name, causing Laurent’s focus to sharpen further, his mind running through the outfits he had seen Damen wear, trying to recall if he had ever seen his car. After the second street of similar displays he turned to Damen, seeing that he was gazing out the window similarly, elbow on the door, fist pressed against his mouth. After two attempts at muttering Damen’s name, he simply jabbed a finger into his side.

“ _What_?” Damen jeered.

“You didn’t tell me you owned half of Akielos,” he said in a sharp whisper.

“You never asked, dear.” 

Lauren’s stare returned to the people around them that walked with their purses clutched to their sides, children holding on to their parent’s hands and pulling them here and there. Everyone was dressed in summer attire; sunglasses perched at the edge of their nose as they raked their fingers through their hair, flowing around them in the breeze. 

The mass of people thinned out as they pulled up beside a dock, a wooden ladder leading down to a boardwalk where a small boat was tethered. Laurent ignored it, turning instead to Damen who was climbing out of the car, opening the trunk back up with one hand.

“Shouldn’t we be going to the hotel?” Laurent asked, pulling his own bag out.

“Nonsense.” Egeria began walking towards the ladder. “Family stays at the house.”

Family. “The house.”

“I didn’t mention that?” Damen asked. He had a shoulder on the car. “It must have slipped my mind.”

“Is this a joke?”

Laurent turned to see Nikandros standing beside them, his arms crossed as he looked at Damen like he had broken a promise. Laurent looked behind them and saw that Egeria was already on the boardwalk, her eyes on the current. 

“What do you mean?” Laurent asked.

“Damen knows what I mean.”

“What,” Laurent asked. “Does Damen’s experience suggest that him being in a relationship is surprising?”

“No,” Damen said.

“Ah,” Laurent nodded. “Jealous?”

Both of their faces scrunched up. “No.”

“Then I’m not following.”

“You’re his boss. He’s told me about you.”

Laurent couldn’t help his short bout of laughter, or the shake of his head as he looked at Damen. “Is there anyone you haven’t complained to?”

Damen shrugged. “Halvik?”

“Who the fuck is Halvik?” Nikandros asked.

“Let’s go,” Damen pushed away from the car. “My mom is waiting.”

Laurent watched as Nikandros made his way to the edge and turned so he was facing them, finding his footing on the first rung easily, going down the steps without any thought. Laurent tried to move. Intended to move, but he seemed to be having trouble making his legs work.

It was just water. People went in without thought, children played like it was nothing, swimming and floating and jumping in without a care in the world. Laurent knew this, logistically. He understood this. That did nothing to alter the memories of water splashing around him, filling his lungs like a chokehold as he thrashed around, trying to implement the graceful way his brother would swim around Laurent in circles, the reminder of how he would never see that again only making him sink down deeper. 

“The boat is safe,” he heard, the voice soft and reassuring in his ear, the carefulness of it making Laurent turn away in resentment at being caught out, despite the way his heart swelled. Of course Damen knew, what with his ridiculous folder of facts and the way he seemed to be in tune with Laurent in a way that was almost unnerving. 

Laurent walked past him and ignored what might have been a sigh, looking at where Nikandros was untethering the boat from the rod it was tied to, jumping in after and rolling the rope back up. In that time Damen had already climbed down the latter and was standing there with his hands on his hips, looking up at Laurent with raised brows.

Laurent inhaled the salty air as he turned around, bending carefully as he grabbed the wooden beam on his side, feeling for the first rung. He found it quickly and then began to move down in steady steps, thinking that none of this nonsense would take place if he were on his way to a hotel. 

He was aware of Damen standing close behind him, the proximity of his chest to Laurent’s back dangerously close, almost too close for Laurent to take the final few steps. He assumed that Damen was standing close in case Laurent slipped or missed a step, like the hesitation he had previously seen would distract him. The thought was immediately thwarted when he felt Damen’s hands at his sides.

“Let me help you there,” Damen said in a voice that made Laurent think about kicking him, palms moving slightly so he was cupping the curves of Laurent’s backside. The touch was more of a suggestion of itself than anything else, and Laurent could still feel the way his fingers tightened around the wood.

“Off,” he said.

The touch was gone the instant Laurent opened his mouth, and the immediateness of it stunned Laurent into a moment of pause before he dropped down the rest of the way. He turned to face Damen who despite the step he had taken away, was still smiling smugly with his hands pushed in his back pockets.

“Did you enjoy that?” Laurent asked.

“You have a great ass,” Damen said.

Laurent leaned down and picked up the bag that Damen had tossed before climbing down, shoving it at his chest. “Let’s go.”

 

The boat ride was a short five minutes from the dock, a ride Damen remembered well from his childhood, sneaking out of his house and off to Isthima with Nikandros and groups of their friends from school as soon as Damen had gotten his sailing license. The view of bright colors, the line where the water met the sky and blended into an expanse of blue was as familiar to Damen as the house in front of them, white marble stretching as far as he could see, only feeling bigger the closer they got.

Nikandros and his mom were walking in front of them, Damen and Laurent a few paces behind as Damen thought of the last time he had been here, months that felt more like years. He looked at Laurent as they walked and saw the tangle in his eyes, despite the lift of his chin.

“You never mentioned you were rich.” He spoke low, his lips hardly moving.

“We didn’t spend much time talking about me,” Damen said. “And I’m not rich, my parents are.”

“That’s exactly what rich people say.” Laurent had stopped walking, looking at either side of them like he had never seen a lake before, the beginning signs of a frown on his face. “Why are you working as an assistant when you could probably buy all of Acquitart?”

Damen looked at the etch between Laurent’s brows, his thoughts on all the ceaseless hours spent between them in his office, the many times Laurent would scoff at his suggestions and the few times he would implement them, no shame or issues of pride when he did, despite his casual manner of it. Damen didn’t know anything about Laurent’s personal life or how much he had of one to begin with, but if he did, he had no problem sacrificing it for the work he believed in. Damen found that admirable.

“Is it so wrong to want to make a name for myself?”

Laurent’s lips parted, just as Damen’s name was called out by a female voice, a light trill that came from one of the doorways. He looked behind his shoulder and only then noticed the clusters of people on the lawn, on the balconies, walking in and out of the house with glasses and plates in their hands.

“Are you,” Laurent said, “kidding me.”

“Nik?”

“I told you your mom missed you,” he said, walking backwards as he replied. “She insisted on a welcoming party.” Damen was surprised that this was all he was getting from him now, but he was sure a confrontation was to come.

“You’ve been in Delpha for possibly five months, how did she have the time to miss you?” Laurent nearly hissed.

“She knows I’ve been slaving for those five months,” Damen replied dully, grabbing one of Laurent’s duffle bags and tossing it over a shoulder. “Let’s go meet the family, love.”

“You’re not calling me love,” Laurent said as he yanked the bag back, walking ahead of Damen.

“Would you like to chose my endearment?” Damen asked. 

“How about serpent?” Laurent asked before stepping off the narrow bridge and on to the grass, walking up the pathway before Damen could say anything. Damen closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, trying to recall anything he might have ever said on the phone at his desk, right outside Laurent’s door. Of course he spoke Akielon.

Nikandros and Egeria had disappeared somewhere in the house, leaving Damen and Laurent to enter alone. Their butler Radel greeted them at the door, immediately taking their bags off their hands and telling them it would be in the hallway upstairs. Laurent smiled at him with a polite nod and thank you, and Damen wondered how he faked manners so well and why some of that couldn’t be directed to him as well. 

The house was packed, Damen could tell as much from the entryway alone. All of the tables and counters were laden with platters of food, people sitting on couches and leaning on walls, the glass doors to the backyard open so that people were trailing the gardens as well. 

“Damen,” said someone to their left. They turned and saw Jord, one of his neighbors that Damen had grown up around and gone to school with, exiting the kitchen and coming near them. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to be back,” Damen took his outstretched hand. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Jord said, his eye moving to Damen’s side. 

“Laurent, this is Jord,” he said. “Jord, this is my boyfriend, Laurent.” 

The words alone still felt incongruous, daring, like Laurent would glare at him for using the title, or make him take it back, but Laurent just offered his hand and shook, returning pleasantries. 

“He’s also my boss,” Damen added, just for fun. He knew how Jord was with power imbalances in relationships, remembering the way he would argue Damen’s logic whenever he would flirt with one of their teachers in high school.

“Oh,” Jord said, looking between the two of them. “That’s- oh.”

“He’s very persuasive,” Damen said.

“He didn’t take that much persuading,” Laurent said.

“Well, you-“

“He’s very easy,” Laurent said to Jord.

“Oh,” Jord said, again, this time sounding more like a question. He stood there silently for a moment before saying, ”well, good seeing you, Damen. Nice meeting you, Laurent.”

“Pleasure was mine,” Laurent smiled. When Jord had walked away and Laurent saw the way Damen was looking at him he said, “relax. He’s Veretian, I’m sure he’s heard far worse.”

Damen let out a breath, putting his hand on Laurent’s back and steering him into the house. Nearly every step they took was intercepted, everyone wanting to stop them and ask how Damen was, who Laurent was, how they met, how long they were together, each of which they took turns answering, their false enthusiasm growing with each interaction. 

“He bribed me into a date, but it was an instant connection after that,” Damen said when asked how the got to know each other.

“All right,” Laurent said, grabbing Damen by the arm when the couple walked away and dragging him into a small alcove away from everyone else. Damen allowed himself to be pulled, his lips spreading in delight when Laurent gave him an irritated shove backwards.

“You’re assertive,” he said, straightening his shirt. “Who would have guessed.”

“Enough of this,” Laurent said, waving a hand between the two of them. “We need to stop bickering and start acting in love.”

“ _I_ can act in love,” Damen argued. “I have no problem being polite and doting on you, I’ve been doing it as a profession for months. _You’re_ the problem here.”

“Me,” Laurent said.

“If I bite, you bite back. And if I’m nice, you blow me off or act offended. I’m aware that you don’t particularly like me, but do I need to remind you how much we both have riding on this?”

A muscle tightened in Laurent’s jaw but he was otherwise mute, his mouth a straight line as he looked forward, so much visibly going on in his mind that Damen felt like he could see it playing out behind his eyes. Damen waited, wishing Laurent wasn’t made of so many layers so that he could have some hope of getting into his head. Laurent could lie, which meant that Laurent could act. Damen just didn’t understand why acting like he felt affection for someone, specifically Damen was so difficult for him.

“Fine,” Laurent said.

“Fine?”

“You’re right,” Laurent said, rolling his eyes at whatever look crossed Damen’s face. “Have you never heard that before?”

“Congratulations,” Damen said. “You lasted two seconds.”

Laurent’s mouth clamped shut again. He seemed to be going through some internal dispute with himself, but the look quickly passed as he took a step forward, and then another. Damen quickly found himself nearly pinned to the wall, his arms uselessly at his sides as he tried to understand where all the space between their bodies had just gone.

“I can act like I’m in love with you,” Laurent said.

“Can you?” Damen said. He thought he did at least; it was hard to think when Laurent’s hand was suddenly on him.

“Yes,” Laurent said, close enough that his head was tilted back so he could look up at Damen. “But I know you struggle with dishonesty,” he continued, his fingers brushing the back of his wrist. “Can _you_ do this?”

There was no option of stepping back, and any movement forward would only press them together. Damen felt like he was dangling his finger by a mousetrap. Or rather, dangling his legs into a shark tank. All he could look at was the smooth angle of Laurent’s throat.

“Sure,” he said. As long as he ignored the sharp teeth that he knew lay beneath his charming smile, Damen should have no problem pretending like he wanted Laurent. It would probably be a bigger challenge to pretend like he didn’t want him, to some degree.

“Good,” Laurent said. Their fingers were laced, and Damen’s attention zeroed in on the single touch. “Lets go, love.”

 

Laurent was asking for trouble. He knew that. There was absolutely no reason for him to be holding Damen’s hand, to be touching his shoulder whenever he was introduced to someone. He told himself it was solely because he enjoyed the look that crossed Damen’s face every time, but apparently, he liked making life more complicated for himself.

They continued to make the rounds, and Laurent was briefly taken back to the many office parties hosted at Acquitart, the slew of different people Damen had shown up with on his arm. Different each time, but none less beautiful than the last.

They were standing in the threshold between the kitchen and a sitting area when Vannes, the woman they were speaking with asked Damen what it was exactly that a book editor did.

“That’s an excellent question,” said a deep, imposing voice that turned Laurent’s head, a man with a glass of scotch in his hand at their side. It took Laurent one glance to put together that the man was Damen’s father, and another to see that the relationship was strained. “I would love to know myself.”

“Dad,” Damen said, taking his hand. Laurent thought of the way Egeria had held Damen’s cheeks like he would disintegrate if she touched too tightly.

“Son,” he replied before training his gaze on Laurent. “You must be the boyfriend I’ve been hearing so much about.”

Laurent waited for quips about how he also must be the slaver but only received a glance above his emptying glass, ice rattling against the bottom. 

“Laurent.” He offered his hand.

“Theomedes,” he said. “So, why don’t you tell us what exactly a book editor does besides for taking authors out for lunch and getting drunk in the middle of the day.”

Laurent was aware that the ball had been placed in his court, and while he knew he could bite, he preferred to observe the scene unfolding in front of him. The way Damen’s stance had shifted, most likely unconsciously, gearing up for whatever was to come.

“Now that sounds like fun,” Vannes said, either oblivious to the tension or simply ignoring it. “Maybe I should be an editor.”

“Oh no, Damianos isn’t an editor, he’s an editor’s assistant.” 

The statement was obviously loaded, and Laurent couldn’t help but notice the way Damen seemed to be standing rigid, looking very opposite the man who hardly bothered holding his tongue with Laurent.

“Oh, so you’re actually his boss,” Vannes said, motioning between them with what Laurent was fairly certain was a wink.

“Do we need to do this now, dad?” Damen asked. “We just got here. I haven’t even seen Kastor yet.”

“Eager to see your brother?” he asked. “Maybe a conversation will put your head back on your shoulders.” He raised his empty glass in a farewell before heading off into a hallway, Damen running a hand down his face before following him.

“So,” Laurent heard, and he turned to see Vannes still watching him, her martini glass tilted by her lips. “Honestly. What’s the story there?”

“What story might you be referring to?”

“How did the assistant become the boyfriend?” she set her glass down on the counter and brought the toothpick to her lips, biting an olive off so that it didn’t smear her red lipstick. Laurent watched her chew, gathering that she was probably a bit of a pest but wondering if it was worth entertaining.

He leaned a hip on the counter, settling an elbow on the surface as he looked off to where the two of them had gone. “How well do you know Damen?”

She dropped the toothpick in the glass. “You mean, do I know him as well as you?”

Laurent propped his chin on his palm.

Through a grin she said, “a part of me suspects my girlfriend could beat Damen in wrestling.” 

He smiled. “He’s very persuasive.”

“I can imagine,” she said, just as Damen’s voice sounded from the center of all the rooms.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice sounded out, causing everyone to pause in their conversations and turn towards him like a compass. “I have a very important announcement to make.”

All of Laurent’s humor vanished as he pushed away from the counter, making his way into the room where Damen stood in front of a wide fireplace, all eyes on him. He caught Damen’s eye across the room, shaking his head minutely so that Damen knew that this was not the time.

Holding Laurent’s eyes with an extended arm he said, “Laurent and I are getting married.”

There was a stuttered pause, all motion in the room stilling before a smatter of applause broke out, slow building with uncertainty and confusion, eventually becoming a loud, synchronous thing. Laurent briefly considered tossing a plate at his head.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Damen nodded him over, smiling widely. 

He was upset. Laurent could see it, just as he could see the way he was translating his anger into his body language, altering it into everything else he was doing, the way he did when the two of them disagreed over strategies. 

The clapping that had lessened built back up as Laurent crossed the room to him, Egeria standing up from her spot with a wide eyed look. Laurent could see Theomedes standing beside her with his stony expression, head slightly shaking. A few paces off, a man watching with a strange look in his eyes, eyes that were considerably similar to Damen’s. Most of his appearance was, despite his dark beard. 

“There we go,” Damen said as he brought an arm around Laurent’s shoulders, giving everyone the show that they wanted. Laurent placed a palm on his chest and smiled back, smart enough to know that this was for more than just the nameless people around them.

When the attention died down and groups of people returned to their conversations, Laurent stepped aside so that they were by the wall, enough distance that they could speak in hushed tones.

“That was the right time?” 

Damen hummed, lifting the drink that he had grabbed off a passing tray to his mouth and draining the amber liquid in a single sip. Laurent watched the way his throat rolled as he set the glass down on the mantel, his hand squeezing his jaw as he looked around the room.

“What happened?” Laurent asked. His voice was quieter.

Damen’s eyes paused in its roaming, stilling for an instant before they moved to Laurent, his head turning so he was looking down at him. Laurent looked back.

“Hello, Damen.”

Damen’s eyes stilled in a different way as he remained frozen like that, looking at Laurent for another stretch before he breathed out slowly, turning at the sound of his name that was spoken in a low, offhand drawl.

“Jokaste.”

Laurent tilted his head just enough so that he could see who Damen was speaking to, nearly letting out a laugh when he did, dropping his head back on the wall. At least Damen was consistent.

“I’m surprised you’re back,” she said. She stood in a casual stance, arms crossed in that practiced way.

“Why is that?” Damen asked. “This is my house, you’re the guest here.”

“House. Not home.” She grinned. “You know why I’m here.”

Laurent briefly weighed the thought of introducing himself, but seeing the way Damen navigated his obvious anger was interesting, in a different way than it had been with his father. Laurent understood family squabbles, and watching them unfold weren’t particularly enticing. This, however.

“Did you want something?” Damen asked.

“Don’t I always?”

“If you do, I’m sure you’ll have no problem saying it.”

“Huh,” Laurent said. “Where was this assertiveness when you were drinking my coffee order?” 

Jokaste looked at Laurent like she had just noticed he was there, stepping around Damen so that she stood in front of him. Her heels put them to about the same height, and she took the time to give him a cursory glance, observing his features like they were of any real interest to her. Laurent didn’t bother abandoning his recline on the wall.

“You must be the fiancé,” she said.

“I must be,” he replied. ”Did the eyes give it away?”

“That was rather fast,” she commented, glancing back at Damen with a lifted brow. Damen’s gaze was alternating between the two of them in a conflicted, hysteric sort of way. She turned back to Laurent. “Damen and I didn’t get together for quite some time after we met.” 

“Then you were missing out,” Laurent said.

“I suppose I was,” she said. “Though I’ve been more than satisfied since.”

Laurent thought about inspecting his nails, wondering if everyone else from Damen’s past love life was this transparent. He fitted her with a similar look, aware of Damen’s conscious sprawl against the wall, and it was only when she shifted that Laurent noticed the bump of her blouse that he knew from the movement that he was intended to see, or was simply intended to _be_ seen.

“So,” she said, when neither of them responded. “Did I miss the story?”

Laurent said, flatly, “what.” 

“The proposal.” Her lips spread like she had happened upon something. ”Damen is such a romantic, I’m sure it was just lovely.”

Laurent smiled in return, aware of the way she had raised her voice. He tilted his head in consideration, just as Egeria spoke up from her spot on the couch.

“I would actually love to hear this,” she said, a wineglass poised between fingers. Laurent didn’t miss the way she simply glanced over Jokaste’s head. “Would you tell us?”

“Yes,” Jokaste said. “Tell us.” And then she was walking off to the opposite end of the room, shoes clicking in her wake. There was a chorus of murmured agreements around, every eye suddenly on them again, nodding in hope like it was their own sons who had just gotten engaged. Laurent looked at Damen expectantly. He wanted to announce the engagement, he could do this as well.

“You know what?” Damen said, his hand on Laurent’s shoulder. “Laurent loves to tell this story, so I’ll just let him do that.” He walked around Laurent and sat on one of the armrests of the couch, waving a hand forward with an encouraging smile.

Laurent smiled back thinly, taking in the way everyone was waiting eagerly. They all seemed to have it set in their minds that it was automatically Damen that had proposed to Laurent, which really was a problem in itself, considering the year. 

“Our story,” Laurent said, placing a hand on one of the tables by him. _I’ve wanted your son since he walked into my office and therefore made his life hell every second following, and now I’ve compelled him into marrying me for my own personal gain._ “I do love telling it.”

“We’re all ears, honey,” Damen said.

“Where to begin?” Laurent put a hand on his hip, fleetingly considering pulling something from one of the novels he had read before abandoning that route, turning to Damen.

“As most of you know, Damen works as my assistant at the publishing house in Delpha,” Laurent began. “He came in to meet me on his first day, and he was just so nervous.” He smiled at the minor twist in Damen’s features, patting his cheek softly which only caused then to twist farther. “I knew he wanted to ask me out and was feeling insecure, so I took the plunge and did it myself. Our connection was instantaneous.”

A woman Laurent hadn’t been introduced to touched her chest, leaning forward to squeeze Damen’s arm after. He appeared to weather it.

“We were coming up on our four month anniversary, and I know it may seem fast, but I could just tell he was going to propose.” Across the room, he could see Nikandros looking at Damen with something that resembled barely contained revulsion. “But I could also tell he was scared, like a tiny little cub,” Laurent continued, his own smile growing with the displeasure on Damen’s face. “So I began to leave him these subtle hints-“

“Now that’s not exactly how it went,” Damen interrupted.

“No?”

“No,” Damen said, tapping Laurent’s hand twice. “You see, I picked up on all of his hints, this man is about as subtle as a hurricane.” He stood up from his spot and came to stand beside Laurent, facing everyone as well. “What I was actually nervous about was for Laurent to find the box-“

“Yes, the decoupage box that you made,” Laurent said, pressing a hand to his chest and shaking his head. “Oh, he’d taken the time to cut out all these tiny little hearts and roses himself, pasting them on it with pictures of the two of us.”

There was a rumble of _oh_ and _aw_ around the room, Laurent nodding along with his lips pressed together, trying to commit the look on Damen’s face to memory as he went on.

“So I opened up the box, and all these colorful little notes fluttered out,” he said, miming the motion with his hands. “Telling me that it’s never been like this before, that he would treat my heart tenderly.” He reached up to place a hand on the juncture between Damen’s neck and shoulder, giving the skin a squeeze. 

“When the notes finally cleared and I looked inside,” he said, spreading his hands. “I found this beautiful, big-“

“Fat nothing,” Damen said, bluntly. The buzz in the room stilled, Damen’s interruption acting like an immediate mute button. 

“No ring,” Damen shook his head. “No. But at the bottom of the box under all of that was a note with a hotel address, date and time. I wanted-“

“I simply couldn’t wait,” Laurent said, Damen’s lips pressing together as Laurent spoke over him. “So I went over there a little early and prepared to knock, and as it turns out he knew I would come early, leaving it unlocked. And as I swung open that door, there he was.”

“Standing,” Damen said loudly.

“Kneeling,” Laurent corrected.

“Like a man,” Damen said.

“On a bed of white flowers,” Laurent added. “And he was so full of passion I could feel it from the doorway.” The more Laurent spoke, the more Damen seemed to be regretting ever coming to Delpha. “And when he finally choked back the emotion he said, softly-“

“Laurent will you marry me?” Damen said. “And he said sure, and there is our story.”

The chatter started up again after a few second’s pause, Egeria coming forward and bringing her arms around Damen as she murmured softly, the aftershocks of his valiant attempts at stretching the truth at any capacity settling as he hugged her back with one arm, kissing her on the forehead. She touched Laurent’s shoulder and smiled at him, and Laurent told himself to smile back, some young, foolishly nostalgic part of him remembering the similar smiles he had given Auguste’s girlfriends.

“That was fun,” Laurent said to Damen once she had walked away, leaning beside him on the back of a couch. For some reason, he felt amused.

“I should have known you were a romantic,” Damen said, lips curving.

“Try again,” Laurent said.

”Please,” Damen replied. “I’ve seen the books you’ve pushed in meetings.”

“Hey!” Someone called out. Laurent turned and saw Lazar, another Veretian that he had previously been introduced to tilting his glass towards them. “How about a kiss?”

Laurent could feel his amusement dispense as he was graciously reminded that the universe was out to make him suffer.

From the way Damen’s eyes turned to Laurent, you would think that Halvik had just walked into the house. Laurent’s were moving rapidly around the room, every single person either cheering, clinking their glass with a spoon or calling out agreements.

“I don’t-“ Damen said.

“Let’s go!” Lazar said, his interest almost concerning.

“All right,” Damen said. He grabbed Laurent’s hand in his and pressed his lips to the skin above his knuckles, too quick for Laurent to register but still enough to make the spot feel like it was buzzing, searing like his tongue in his mouth as Damen waved their clasped hands around.

“What is this?” Lazar continued, pushing off the wall and pointing to them, his enthusiasm only spurring everyone on. “Kiss each other like you mean it.”

 _I don’t even know you,_ Laurent wanted to yell. He turned to Damen with raised brows and waited. For what, he didn’t know. Damen looked torn which only managed to throw Laurent, his interest in doing far more than just kissing Laurent being apparent since day one.

“Kiss him!” Someone called out, and at that point Laurent wasn’t sure who they expected to kiss who. But that demand was the first domino in what resulted in a chorus of people clapping, chanting a continuous, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

“Okay!” Damen said loudly, his voice hitching a bit helplessly. They did nothing to close the small, notable space between their bodies, Laurent very well aware of the large cluster of prying eyes as they angled their heads, Damen tipping his down and Laurent craning his back, not allowing himself to think as they leaned in awkwardly, their lips touching with a quick press, punctuated with a sound.

Laurent pulled away quicker than he had leaned in, less than five seconds away from exiting the room and leaning out of a balcony so he could breathe. His stomach was in knots, and he refused to look at Damen as he turned back to the people who had better be pleased.

“Oh come on!” Someone new said, because there truly was no end. “Like you mean it!”

There was only so much Laurent could take, and at this point he wanted to be done and away, to shut himself in a room and possibly reevaluate his decision of not turning Damen around and removing him from his office the second he realized he was going to be a problem. He turned to Damen with resolve, looking into his eyes and murmuring, “just do it.”

Damen’s eyes flickered across his face, the line between his eyebrows creased. “I-“

“Just kiss me,” Laurent said back hurriedly, desperately. The room was probably still cheering, still calling out to them, but Laurent couldn’t tell anymore because Damen’s lips were back on his.

It was a numbing sort of silence, like being plunged into the ocean and then pulled back out again, into the heat of the sun that scorched like fire. Laurent expected the floor to open up beneath them, for the ceiling to collapse, the body of water outside to come crashing in through the windows in shattering waves of glass. And while Laurent did feel a hammering in his chest and an unsteadiness on his feet, the gentle, undemanding touch of a hand on his waist somehow managed to ground him, to soothe the pounding into a slow, equally terrifying pulse.

Eventually they pulled apart, Damen’s hand taking longer to slip away, Laurent only aware that his hand was on Damen’s chest when he felt his heartbeat on his fingers. Laurent swallowed as he took a step back, Damen’s lips still slightly parted. As Laurent’s eyes flicked up and he saw that Damen seemed in no particular rush to look away, he thought, _I’m in trouble._


	4. Chapter 4

Damen was off in one of the more private, secluded parts of the house, Laurent going off to deal with a few business calls elsewhere once the attention finally died down, everyone returning back to their own business. Currently, Damen was standing against a wall with his head tipped back, trying to call on all of his patience as he wondered if there were any other men in their late twenties getting lectured by their mother.

“I know, mom,” Damen said, repeating the sentence for what was possibly the third time since Egeria had taken his hand and pulled him aside.

“I just don’t understand,” she said, hands still on her hips. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

Rubbing his fingers against his temple, “Which part is unclear?”

“Damianos,” she reprimanded. 

“I don’t know what else to say, mom.”

“I don’t-“ she dropped her hands and shook her head at him, rubbing her own forehead like Damen was exhausting her. “You’ve complained about him nearly every time we spoke on the phone.” Which really wasn’t that many times. Damen loved his mother but he knew he could have done better at keeping in touch.

This of course was a problem that Damen hadn’t initially considered. It was true, he _had_ mentioned Laurent in a not so positive way once or twice, and the prospect of showing up with him as his fiancé without warning must have been jarring, if not a bit unrealistic. He hadn’t spoken to Laurent about it, but then again, how exactly could he get advice on how to tell his parents that he was suddenly romantically interested in the man he had spoken not so greatly about?

Sighing, Damen shook his head as well. “What can I tell you, mom? He was difficult at first, but I got to know him.” Which wasn’t necessarily a lie. For all the months that he had spent day after day with Laurent, those past few days probably held the most personal conversations they had yet to have, even if most lacked much substance. “And it just… happened. I knew you would never leave it at that, so I just never brought it up. It wasn’t something I wanted to get into on the phone.”

“Right,” she said. “You preferred to tell me one of the many times you’ve visited home.”

Damen felt the way his jaw set as he looked at his mother wordlessly. She returned the same look.

“I’m here now,” he said. When her expression didn’t change he said, “don’t you like Laurent?”

She looked at Damen like she was reading something on his face, like she was waiting for him to say what she wanted. Eventually she said, “Do _you_ like Laurent?”

Damen didn’t want to lie to his mother. Did he like Laurent? He’d been around him enough to know that there were certainly parts of Laurent that he could like, if Laurent wasn’t as reticently standoffish as a brick wall, or if he gave Damen a single indication that he wanted to have any form of genuine civility between them. 

But if he was being honest with himself, he _did_ like parts of Laurent, despite his many issues with him. He was more resilient than most people, something Damen appreciated. He was challenging in an infuriatingly stimulating sort of way. Damen may have wanted to bare his teeth or slam a door in his face one or twice, and he typically tended to gravitate to people more demure than him, but he often found that Laurent’s wit also enthused him, the way he didn’t even seem to blink at Damen’s equally timed responses, save for the times he was being needlessly stubborn.

And then of course, there was everything else. Things he wasn’t about to reflect on in front of his mother.

“Would I be marrying him if I didn’t like him?” He asked, finding that easier to say than an outward yes or no.

“Marrying,” she repeated, covering her eyes. “You’re getting married to a man I’ve just met.”

“Mom,” he took a hold of her hand and pulled it away. “Have you ever known me to do something that I haven’t wanted?”

Egeria snatched her hand away and placed it on the shoulder of one of the caterers passing them, plucking a glass of some clear liquid off the tray and taking a long sip. She lowered the glass after and swirled the liquor around, shaking her head with closed eyes before finishing the drink off. “You are as infuriating as your father.”

When Damen ignored that, she set the empty glass aside, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve seen the girls you used to bring home,” she said. “And the boys. He’s not like them.”

“No,” Damen agreed. Laurent was absolutely not like anyone Damen had ever been with.

“You’re a handful, Damen. He’s not going to take any of your shit, I can already tell.”

Damen laughed. “Good observation.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

Damen covered her hands with his. “I’m happy, mom.” And he was. Damen was a happy man.

She let out a low breath, looking a bit defeated. Damen smiled at her, bringing an arm around her as she leaned her head on his chest. 

“Nikandros isn’t happy with you.”

Damen laughed again. “Nikandros is never happy with me.”

She lifted her eyes. “He was right the last time.”

Damen pressed his lips together, removing his mother from him gently and shaking his head. She nodded once, cupping his cheek before saying, “I’ll show you both to your room soon.” She walked off with that, and Damen was finally free to go off on his own for a while.

Damen exited the main room and went out through the right, taking one of the hallways that he knew led out to one of the smaller balconies in the more private area of the house where other people wouldn’t have wandered. He felt his phone buzz in his back pocket and pulled it out, continuing to walk as he swiped away all of the notifications that had accumulated since they landed, stopping abruptly when he nearly collided with someone.

“Sorry,” Damen said, locking his phone as he looked up, hand stilling on the button. 

“Damen.”

“Kastor,” Damen said, finding his voice. 

Despite the years that separated them, Damen still had a few inches on Kastor, a bit more bulk to his frame. He stood at his full height and tried not to feel small.

“You’re back,” Kastor said, in a tone notably familiar to the suggestive conversation Damen had previously had. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

“I’m back,” Damen said. “It’s my mom’s birthday.”

He had let his beard grow in, in the few months since Damen had seen him. He looked like their father.

“Right.” Kastor let out a low laugh. “And you wanted her to meet your boyfriend.”

Damen felt a flare of crossness, crossing his arms against his chest. “I wanted everyone to meet Laurent.”

“You can’t be serious with that,” he said, mirroring Damen’s pose like he was mocking him. “Anyone that looks at him can see that he’s nothing more than a runner up. Are you trying to prove something by bringing him here?”

The flare sparked into a flame, surging in Damen’s chest as he dropped his hands and stepped forward, closer than they had been in months. “Watch it,” Damen said, gripping the fabric of his pockets. “You don’t know anything.”

Kastor grinned, the side of his lips curling as he looked at Damen with no sign of hesitancy. “What are you going to do, hit me?” he asked. “You didn’t touch me then, you won’t do shit now.”

Teeth clenched, Damen took a step back as he tried to reign himself in, turning so he was looking at the stretch of white around him like it would settle the fog in his head. His fingers were itching to grab something, to squeeze until it burst, seeping between his fingers.

“We’re doing fine without you,” Kastor said, all traces of light mockery gone, his tone holding nothing but scorn and contemp. “I’m managing everything better than you ever would have.”

Damen turned back to him with a hand squeezing his nape, back to his pinched features and the way he was holding himself as straight as possible like trying to appear large to his younger brother. Damen remembered everything that had happened, he couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, but looking at Kastor then, he only thought of how Kastor had taught him the best wrestling moves, the times they had snuck out of the house together or when he had let Damen drive his favorite car. 

“I’m sure you are,” Damen told him, honestly. It wasn’t a matter of skill that dictated anything, but he wouldn’t say that. There were many things Damen wouldn’t say. 

Kastor didn’t seam pleased by it, either way. He spoke in a similar voice. “I’m going to be a father.”

Damen had already known through Nikandros, though he was sure neither of them expected him to. He nodded once. 

Kastor continued to watch him, raising his chin in a way that made Damen feel like he was being looked down at, despite the way he was the one peering down. Damen didn’t know what Kastor expected from him now, but Damen refused to be goaded. There was a week ahead of them, a week of comments and baiting and insinuation. It could begin then.

“I hope you’re happy, Kastor,” Damen said, stepping around him. He took the few steps to his intended destination, a sliding door that led out to a wide balcony overlooking the yard. With a hand on the glass he turned to look over his shoulder. “Laurent’s not my boyfriend,” he said. “He’s my fiancé.”

With that he stepped out onto the terrace, letting it shut behind him as he walked to the edge, bracing his hands on the stone rail as he hung his head, the wind hitting against his face and tousling his curls. He hadn’t thought that facing home, facing everything would be pleasant, but he had somehow been fooled into believing that shutting the door to everything would be as simple here as It was thousands of miles away.

He heard the door slide open again, and he felt his fingers curl as he waited to hear who he would have to deal with then. Whoever it was stepped up next to Damen and waited, and when Damen turned his head there was nothing that he could do but laugh. “I’m not doing this now.”

“Well I’m not leaving,” Nikandros leaned his forearms on the edge. “So you might as well do this now.”

Damen watched the waves, thinking about how long it had been since he had seen the ocean, the comfort of looking out his window and seeing the stretch of water just a block away from his home. Realistically it was only around five months, but for someone who grew up around them, it might as well have been years.

“Fuck you, Damen,” Nikandros said when Damen said nothing. “I spoke to you yesterday. You’ve been complaining about this guy from the instant you started working there, and you’ve been with him the whole time?”

Damen pushed himself up. “Nikandros-“

“And then I see him!” Nikandros said. “And of course it makes sense, because you’re predictable and refuse to learn. But not only did you fail to mention that you’re fucking him, but you’re engaged!”

“Can you-”

“Did this small piece of information skip your mind every time we spoke because you knew what I would say?” Nikandros asked. “Or because-“

“Shut the fuck up, Nik. I’m not marrying him.” He paused, rubbing his face and muttering against his palm. “Well, I am, but not like that.”

Nikandros rolled his eyes up to the sky, slowly turning orange as the sun began to dip behind the trees. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“You don’t want to be involved,” Damen said. “Just let it be.”

“Involved,” Nikandros repeated. “How can your relationship with a man you hate involve me in any capacity?”

“Hate is a strong word,” Damen said. “And if you know, you’re involved. I know you won’t want to be.” He also knew that he wouldn’t hear the end of this.

Nikandros narrowed his eyes into slits. “How long have you been dating him?”

Damen ran a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t quite call it dating.” 

Nikandros dragged a hand across his forehead. “Fucking him.”

“Nope.”

Nikandros dropped his hand. “Please.”

“I’m serious,” Damen said. “I hadn’t even kissed him before today.”

He turned away again, the stone corners rough against the pad of his fingers as he dug his teeth into his lip, trying not to think about it. About the look on Laurent’s face right before, the resistance in his stance, the way his lips had felt different than Dame had ever imagined they would, soft and sweet as his fingers curled against Damen’s shirt, pulling away just as Damen began to part his own lips.

“Are you screwing with me?” Nikandros was still talking. “You- what the hell is going on, Damen?”

Damen sighed, turning his body so he was looking at the house, his back on the banister. “You really want to know?”

“Just talk.”

“All right,” Damen shrugged. He warned Nikandros, and he’d long ago learned how to tune his neurosis out. “Laurent’s visa was denied and he was going to be deported back to Vere, subsequently losing his position at Acquitart. He told the board that we we’re getting married, and here we are.” 

Nikandros looked at him blankly, blinking for a few seconds before saying, “What?”

“I thought that was a pretty straightforward explanation,” Damen said.

“I don’t understand.”

“Where should I elaborate?”

“You-“ Nikandros squinted. “He’s getting deported.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re marrying him to keep him in the country.”

“I’m also being promoted,” Damen said. “But yes, that about covers things.”

Nikandros’ lips parted. He stepped away and turned, his hands on his hips before he pressed the heels into his eyes, shaking his head like it would remove the words from his ears. He turned back around, motioning to Damen with both hands. “Have you entirely lost your mind?”

Damen could feel that he was nearing the end of his patience when it came to harping on this for the day. “Just say whatever you have to say, Nikandros. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s going to be a long life!” Nikandros said, his tone exasperated like this was his own situation. “You’re going to marry someone you feel nothing for, someone who treats you terribly so they can benefit from you!” 

He closed his eyes, letting out a short laugh. “When I say it like that,” he opened his eyes. “It almost makes sense.”

“Don’t,” Damen said. 

“Forget the fact that it’s illegal, it’s completely senseless,” Nikandros said. “You are going to _marry_ this man because he told you to, and because he looks like he came straight out of one of your fantasies.”

“Enough,” Damen said, stepping towards him. “I told you because you’re my friend, and I don’t want to hide this from you. I told you nothing of it before because it all just happened, and despite your problems, it’s happening. I’m a big boy, I can make my own decisions, and this is my decision.”

“Do you not see what he’s doing to you? Listen to yourself, Damianos.”

“How is he doing anything?” Damen asked. “He hasn’t forced me into anything.” Which felt like a bit of a stretch, but really, Laurent _hadn’t_ forced him. Damen could pull out at any time, and he and Laurent both knew that.

“It’s just a year,” Damen said. “It’s not a normal marriage, just documents and titles. Life will go on as before, we get it annulled after a year, that’s it. Nothing will change.”

“Nothing?” Nikandros said.” You’ll be _married_.”

Damen dropped his head, squeezing the tension out of the back of his neck as he looked at the ground. At this point, he would rather be bickering with Laurent. The thought of their ceaseless back and forth was almost comforting in its ease and familiarity. 

Damen placed his hands on Nikandros’ shoulders, looking into his eyes. “My decision has bee made,” he said. “This is happening. Are you going to stick with me through it?”

Nikandros let out a long breath, nudging Damen on the chest before clapping him back on the shoulder. “You’re making a mistake, Damen. But you know I will.”

“Good,” Damen said, dropping his hands and leaning back. Leaving Laurent alone for so long seemed dangerous. He needed to find him. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Apparently, he didn’t have to look far.

Damen had entered the house again and walked into the main room, looking around for a few moments before he spotted him leaning on the staircase speaking to Vannes, his mom’s best friend. Another brief glance around the room confirmed that most of the people had left, only a scant few still loitering around.

Damen stayed where he was and watched them, waiting to see how Laurent handled himself on his own in a room full of strangers. He watched Vannes as she spoke with what was primarily a placid expression, though there was a certain glint in his eyes like his lips were threatening to quirk at whatever obscenity Vannes was most likely saying. 

Laurent looked to him then, head staying still while his eyes moved over her shoulder and on to Damen like the pull of a magnet. He said nothing, nor did he give any indication that he was no longer listening to Vannes, his gaze moving with Damen as he walked.

Vannes turned as well, watching Damen approach them like he was a secret unfolded, beckoning him forward with two long nails. 

“We were interrupted earlier,” she said, pulling him down by the neck so she could kiss his cheek. “I didn’t get to properly catch up.”

Vannes was only a handful of years younger then Egeria. She had moved to Akielos when Damen had been a boy, and had been around the house for most of his teenage years. She felt like more of a loud, slightly obtrusive aunt than anything else.

“You two seem to be getting along well,” Damen observed.

“You’re marrying a Veretian,” she said. “I always told you they were the most fun.”

“You met him today,” Damen said. “How do you know he’s fun?”

“Are you saying I’m boring?” Laurent asked.

Damen turned his head to him slowly. Laurent was scheming, argumentative and shamelessly ruthless. Nothing about him was boring. 

“I would never,” he said. “But Vannes might.”

“I like him,” Vannes said. “Certainly more than the last one.”

Laurent leaned an elbow to the edge of one of the stairs. “Was that really my stiffest competition?” 

“All right,” Damen said. “It was great catching up.”

Vanes grinned. “Eager to get to your room?”

“Can you blame me?” Laurent asked.

After about three long blinks, “Where’s my mom?”

“Upstairs,” she replied, hefting her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Damen paused with a hand on the railing. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Family dinner,” she replied. “Your mom insists.”

Damen placed his face in the cross of his arms, reminding himself that it was just one week and the insanity would be over. _You’re not family_ , he almost said, but knew that that wasn’t really true.

“Fine,” Damen said. “Tomorrow.” He looked down at Laurent, two steps behind him and nudged upwards with his chin, prompting Laurent to follow him.

They walked up the stairs side by side, Damen’s fingers trailing the polished wood of the railing as Laurent’s eyes scanned the pictures lining the wall, not settling on one for anything more than a second. There weren’t many to begin with, and Damen found himself averting his eyes for what might have been the first time.

Egeria walked out of her bedroom just as Damen and Laurent reached the top, pulling the door shut with a disgruntled look on her face, lips poised like she was holding words back. She kept her fingers curled around the handle, her hand pressed to her face for a moment before dragging it through her hair, pushing it away from her eyes.

“Oh!” she started, stepping away like a slight change in position did anything. “I didn’t hear you two come up.”

“Is everything…“ Damen said, trailing off so that the look that transferred between them spoke for him.

“Fine,” she waved a hand, running her hands down her sides and motioning down the hall. “Come, let me show you to your room.”

“It’s all right, mom,” Damen said. “I know where it is.”

“I was talking to Laurent,” she sad, walking towards him and taking his arm. “He’s my guest, not you.”

Damen almost intercepted, but the sight of Laurent visibly trying to go with the gesture like it was a natural thing was a far more alluring option. He let himself lag a few steps behind as they walked down the hall, Laurent’s eyes frequently falling to her fingers on his bicep.

“Here we are,” she said, pushing the handle down and swinging the door open, stepping aside so they both could walk in before her. Radel had brought their bags up earlier, stashed to the side of the room beside a vanity. It was one of the guestrooms that they would offer to extended family or Damen and Kastor’s friends, large and airy and open. The balcony door was closed, curtains drawn so that the glow of the sunset poured in through the glass. There was a cushioned bench at the front of the bed, crimson red pillows and throws tossed on cream sheets. There was no couch.

Laurent was standing in the center of the room, turning in a circle like he was looking for something eye-catching, anything as busy as the interior of his office. 

“This is beautiful,” he said to Egeria, touching the bedframe. “Is Damen’s room similar?”

She looked at him for a stretch before laughing shortly, walking towards a closet by the entryway. “It’s fine,” she said. “I’m under no impressions that you sleep in different beds.”

Damen closed his eyes as he tipped his head back. One week.

There was a slight commotion on the stairs then, nails continuously clicking against the ground as Damen turned at the sound of barking, increasing with each second before the door was pushed open by a small brown puppy, ears flapping around as it skidded across the marble, tongue loosely out of its mouth. Damen had never seen him before and he jolted as it ran past his own legs, bounding to Laurent like it had been looking for him specifically. 

Damen might have been a bit slow in reacting, feeling part amusement at the thought of Laurent recoiling from the dog and part trepidation for him, him being the dog.

He turned with a spreading grin, stepping forward to pick him up and hand him off to his mom. Instead he stood with an outstretched arm, blinking in a way that felt like it required too much effort as he absorbed what it felt like to see Laurent smile.

The pup was on its hind legs, tail wagging behind him in sweeps as he pawed incessantly at Laurent’s legs like trying to climb up his body. Laurent was crouched just enough so that he could scratch behind his ear, his eyes bright as the pup began to lick at his wrist, increasingly enthusiastic as Laurent moved his fingers to rub below his chin. Something about how young he looked made Damen’s chest twinge for a moment.

“Oh good, Hades likes you,” Egeria said, watching them as well with an overly relieved smile. “We just rescued him from the pound, he hardly gets along with anyone.”

Laurent stood back up after a few more seconds of rubbing Hades’ neck, watching as he ran around Egeria in circles before springing out the door, the sound of his clacking nails growing more and more distant.

“It gets chilly here at nights,” Egeria said, pulling open a closet. “So there are extra blankets here if you need them.”

“Thank you,” Laurent said.

“Thanks, mom,” Damen said. “Goodnight.”

She looked between the two of them, Laurent already focusing on their luggage and pulling aside his own bag before she turned to Damen, squeezing his shoulder. “Goodnight.”

When she had finally left them Damen was leaning against the balcony door with his legs crossed at the ankle, watching as Laurent threw his luggage down on the bed.

“What,” Laurent said as he pulled open a side zipper.

“You were nicer to that dog than you are to me,” Damen said.

“He was cute.”

“I’m cute,” Damen said. His head was tilted on the wall.

“You must be, if you’re comparing the attention you receive to an animal.” He turned around, a bag of toiletries and a bundle of clothing in his hand

“So,” Damen said, eyeing the tangle of blankets on the bed. “Big spoon or little spoon?”

Holding Damen’s gaze across the room, Laurent picked up one of the pillows and threw it on the floor at the foot of the bed, shortly followed by a blanket.

Damen looked down at the tumbled fabric by his feet before looing back up, Laurent already halfway to the bathroom. “You’re kidding,” he said, having decided to give Laurent the bed before he had even joked about it. “The floor is marble.”

Laurent shut the door behind him.

Damen stared blankly at the spot he had just been in for a few seconds before he shook his head, walking towards the closet his mom had opened and rummaging around, pulling out the heaviest blanket he could find. He folded it over once so it would be slightly thicker, spreading it out on the ground and adding one more on top for good measure. 

Damen heard the sound of the sink running as he walked over to the corner of the room, kicking his shoes off and pushing them aside with his foot. He brought his hands behind his head and took hold of the back of the hem, pulling his shirt off and shaking it out before he set it on one of the arms of the chair. He paused with his fingers on his zipper, looking back at the bathroom door for a second before shaking his hesitation away. If Laurent decided to walk out when he was in nothing but his boxers and had a problem with it, that was his own issue.

His pants off and laid out beside his shirt, Damen walked to one of his own bags as he sifted through his clothing, pulling out gray sweatpants. He tugged them on and decided to forgo a shirt, preferring to sleep as minimally clothed as possible, especially in this heat.

Damen dropped himself down to the pallet he had set up, stretching his legs out as he scrolled through his phone, responding to whatever he could at the moment before switching it to silent. He set it down on the floor beside his makeshift bed, laying back on his pillow and closing his eyes.

Distantly, Damen heard a dull _thud_ , a few seconds passing before another piece of clothing followed it. Damen pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, the sound doing nothing to stop the thoughts that he was just barely keeping at bay, the stupidly indulgent thoughts of how Laurent’s skin would have felt against Damen’s fingers had he pushed his hand under his shirt earlier, fingertips grazing his hip.

The door opened marginally, a welcome distraction and reason for Damen to stop thinking. After a moment of pause, “what are you doing?”

Damen cycled through a few different responses before simply saying, “excuse me?”

“I’m going to bed,” Laurent said. “Don’t look at me.”

Damen smiled to himself. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” Laurent said as Damen pushed himself up on an elbow. “I’ll fire you.”

“Can’t fire your editor.”

“I’ll gauge your eyes out.”

Jesus Christ, did he sleep naked? “Go to bed, Laurent.”

Despite the warning in his voice, the door pushed open fully as if all hesitancies were gone, the last few seconds imagined. Damen watched with a hand pushed in his hair as Laurent stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately going to the impassive set of Laurent’s features as he began to walk across the room, his skin nearly blending in with the loose, white shirt he was wearing, laces trailing down his front. Damen was so temporarily caught in the line of Laurent’s exposed neck that it took him a stretch of seconds before he realized that the thin shirt was all that he was wearing.

Laurent was around him and on the bed, pulling the covers over him before Damen could look again, his head suddenly feeling very heavy as he tried to remove the imagine of Laurent’s thighs from his mind. It was either that, or he did something stupid like pull the blanket off.

“I assumed I was going to be alone in a hotel room.” Flatly.

“I can give you sweatpants,” Damen said when he found his voice.

He heard one of the heavier pillows fall to the floor, somewhere off on the side. “No.”

His legs looked longer without the cover of pants, a smooth stretch of creamy skin, calf muscles flexing and taut. Damen shifted in his spot. 

“What did your mom say to you?” Laurent asked.

After another inhale, “when?”

“Whenever she inevitably pulled you aside.”

Apparently, Laurent didn’t need to know people to read them. “Nothing, really. She tried to understand how I never mentioned anything.”

“And you said?”

“Don’t worry,” Damen said. “I handled it.”

He was on his back now, one hand atop another on his chest, looking up at the ceiling as he listened to Laurent nestling himself around on the sheets.

“I won’t pretend like I’m not worried, what with your affinity for honesty.”

“You speak about me being an honest person like it’s a negative attribute.”

“Transparency,” Laurent said instead. “What else?”

Damen brought an arm behind his head, closing his eyes again. “She asked if I like you and told me you wouldn’t take any of my shit.” 

“I don’t need you to like me,” Laurent said. “And she is correct.”

“No more or less than I take yours,” Damen said. He weighed his words before shifting on his side, regardless of the fact that despite the change in position, he was still too low to actually see Laurent. 

“We’re going to be married,” Damen said, wondering when the words would roll off his tongue in a natural way. “It would help if we could genuinely like some things about each other.”

Despite the shut balcony doors and the distance, he thought he could hazily hear the waves outside. He’d missed the sound. Ease and rhythm and less confusing times. 

“You do what I say and give up all your extra hours for work,” Laurent said. “I can hardly contain my like.”

Damen pressed his lips together, lifting his body enough that he could turn onto his other side, pulling the blanket up. He knew when conversations with Laurent turned futile. “Goodnight, Laurent.”

He pressed his face into the pillow, adjusting his body so he could somehow get comfortable as he was, the coolness from the marble a chill around him. He listened to the ocean, the ticking of the clock, breathing out through his nose as he waited for sleep to take him.

“You don’t need to like me,” he heard distantly, faintly. “Goodnight, Damen.”


	5. Chapter 5

Laurent woke the next morning on his stomach, his face pressed into the mount of pillows when he heard the sound of ringing in the distance, alerting the start of his workday. He stayed as he was, reaching a hand out to the table on the right side of his bed, only to miss. He moved his hand slightly to the side and felt around, sighing when he couldn’t find the alarm clock. He lifted his head enough to look, body tensing in attention when he didn’t recognize the table, or the lamp on top of it

He heard a groan as he turned onto his back, and it was right when he saw Damen on the ground a few feet away that he remembered where he was, the shrill sound of ringing incessant in the background. 

“Laurent,” Damen said, muffled by the blankets beneath him. “Your phone.”

Laurent pushed himself up and looked to either side of the bed, muttering to himself as he saw the vacant surface of the bedside table. He moved forward on his knees and pulled open one of the drawers, slamming it shut a bit louder then necessary as Damen let out a rough sound, flipping himself onto his back.

“Your bag,” he said, the sheet slipping farther down his bare chest as he rubbed at his face. “It’s in the second pocket.”

Laurent was out of the bed and rifling through the folds, the prospect of who could be impatiently waiting on the line putting all thoughts of his current state of dress on hold. He yanked the phone out, swiping the screen as he brought it to his ear. “Hello- Yes, yes I can speak now,” he said, ignoring Damen’s huffing. “I apologize, I wasn’t by the phone.”

He stood up, grabbing his pants form the previous day and pulling them on with the phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “One minute Touars, I have horrible service in here.”

“Laurent,” Damen said into his hands.

“Yes, I’m listening,” Laurent said as he shoved his feet into his shoes, going around Damen as he pulled the balcony doors open, rushing down the side stairs as Touars went on, barking about the injustices of being forced into appearing on Oprah as if Laurent wasn’t salvaging his dwindling career as an author.

The early morning sun was bright in Laurent’s eyes, everything around him green and airy as he stepped as far away from the house as he could, nodding his head as Touars spoke, all the while contemplating the best way to get this pointless call done with, the outcome already clear.

The yard was massive, stretching out far enough that there was even a lake at one side of it, stone benches and windings of white blossoms surrounding it. Laurent stood right before the edge as he watched the way the sun glistened down on the undisturbed surface.

“I understand that,” Laurent said. “And I hear your concerns, but I believe backing out would be a mistake.” After listening for a moment, “why? Because reaching out to your audience in a personal way can only benefit you, which is all I want.” 

After another few seconds, “I’ve been reading your manuscripts for years, Touars, and all those years, you’ve inspired me with your beautiful words.” He tipped his head back, his eyes following the circulating eagles dully as he spoke. “And I think others should have the privilege of being inspired by your words on all platforms.”

The eagles began to squawk, and Laurent waved a dismissive hand at them in silence as he rolled his eyes. “Yes, Touars. I’ve researched the opening sales of all of our publications, and authors who have appeared on some form of a talk show prior to have done considerably better.”

Touars grew silent, which was such a rare enough occurrence that Laurent felt inclined to pull the phone away from his ear and check the screen to see if they had been disconnected. Just as he squinted his eyes and tapped at the screen, two of the eagles swept down beside him and squawked loud enough that Laurent jolted, the suddenness of it causing his grip to falter, Touars’ voice starting up again as the phone slipped out of his hand and straight into the lake, a loud, horrifying _plunk_.

“ _Fuck_ ,’ Laurent said, a second before hearing his name.

Laurent turned around, Damen standing a few feet away from him. He was barefoot, his hair a tousled mess, and apparently hadn’t had the decency to put a shit on before coming out to him. He glanced behind Laurent’s shoulder for a moment before fitting him with a look. “That was pretty clumsy for someone so uptight.”

“It was that fucking bird,” Laurent swung his hand out, motioning to the sky while trying not to do something stupid like look downwards. 

“The bird took the phone form your hand and threw it in the water?”

“I need that phone,” Laurent said, mind already racing through all the calls and emails and texts he was going to miss, everything that needed to be rescheduled now. “Touars is calling me on that, and I had an audio meeting set-“

“Calm down,” Damen said. “I’ll order you a new phone with the same number, we’ll go into town as soon as it’s ready and get it.”

Laurent didn’t know why he felt so stupidly grateful, but it must have shown on his face because Damen laughed, his lips curving in amused disbelief. “I’ve been doing these kinds of things for you for months,” he said. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Laurent’s eyes swept the yard, which was more of a field than anything. “You’re not my assistant this week.”

“As your new editor I’m not your assistant, period,” Damen said, tilting his head back to the house. “Now go get ready, you’re going out with my mom and Vannes today.”

Laurent narrowed his eyes. “I am not.”

“Lunch, shopping, it’ll be great.”

“I’m seeing them at dinner tonight,” Laurent said. God forbid these people missed each other for a day.

“You’ll get to sightsee Akielos,” Damen said.

“I don’t want to see Akielos,” Laurent said.

“Sure you do.”

“No.”

“If it makes you feel better, Vannes’ original plan was to take you to a strip club.” He took a step forward, spreading out his arms. “Now, come here.”

Laurent nearly took a step back before remembering that he was standing at the edge of a lake. “What?”

“They’re watching, don’t want them to think we’re fighting,” he said, his brow quirking playfully as he motioned inwards with one of his hands, causing his pecs to flex. Laurent briefly considering stepping into the water.

“I don’t want- no, don’t touch me-” Laurent said before Damen was closing the distance, both of his arms going around Laurent so that he felt like he was being held together by two pillars of stone, Laurent’s thin shirt doing nothing to block the curves and bumps of his chest against him.

“There we go,” Damen said, one of his palms on the small of his back, the other one rubbing his shoulder in circles, seemingly unbothered by the way Laurent’s hands were at his sides, trying his best not to breathe. He already knew what Damen’s lips felt like, he didn’t need to know his scent either. 

Damen was over a head taller than him, forcing Laurent’s head to turn awkwardly so his lips wouldn’t touch his skin. “Are we done yet?” 

“Isn’t this nice?” Damen asked. His body was unnaturally warm.

Yes. “No,” Laurent said. “I don’t hug.”

He felt Damen’s hand inch down, the tips of his fingers just beginning to cover Laurent’s ass. He wanted to rip Damen’s hand off. He wanted to linger without shame.

Evidently he said, “touch my ass again and I’ll castrate you.”

And Damen let go, stepping back with his hands at his sides like that was the normal thing to do, like that’s what anyone would do. 

His smile was mock free. “Have fun with my mom, sweetheart.”

A few minutes later, Laurent was back in the room and blessedly alone, Damen only passing through long enough to grab a change of clothes before he went out the bedroom and off somewhere down the stairs. Laurent sat on the bed in the same spot he had slept, his fingers curling tightly into the sheets as he breathed in through his nose. 

A few days, he told himself. It was just a few days, and then he would be back in his apartment, back in his routine that was as familiar as he liked. Wake up, go to work, come home, repeat. No noise, no excess, no distraction.

It didn’t matter that he knew what Damen looked like when he slept, what his soft breaths sounded like. It didn’t matter that he knew that he kissed with a subdued intensity like he had been thinking about it for months and then had to hold himself back. This was nothing more than a job requirement, and he was nothing more to Damen that a means to get ahead. Damen being a decent person was a minor inconvenience, but as long as his regard for Laurent didn’t stretch farther than simple attraction, there shouldn’t be a problem. 

He stood from the bed with new resolve, going to his suitcase and unzipping it in one pull. He flipped the top back and began to sift through it, pulling out a dark pare of jeans and a navy shirt, deciding to unpack when he got back from what was sure to be a long, trying day. 

He looked in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt, his teeth brushed and his face washed. He had wasted enough time, and the handful of interactions he’d had with both Vannes and Egeria told him it was a matter of minutes before they came into the room and pulled him out themselves. 

They were leaning on the counter when Laurent entered the kitchen, turning around at the sound of his shoes against the floor. Laurent glanced around the room with a flick of his eyes.

“He’s not here,” Vannes said. “He left a few minutes ago.”

“All right,” Laurent said, just before he remembered that he probably shouldn’t act so nonchalant about Damen around his mother.

She didn’t seem to notice. “Are you ready to go?”

Laurent touched a hand to the counter. “We don’t have to go anywhere,” he said, trying for coyness. “I’m fine just waiting for Damen to get back.”

“Nonsense,” Vannes said. “He wants you to get out.”

Of course he does. “Really, I have work I should catch up on-“

“He said you would try that,” Egeria said. “He also said you would pretend like you’re bashful, which anyone with eyes can see is not the case.” She took his hand. “Trust me, this is more for me than it is for you.”

Laurent looked her in the eye. “Is that so?”

She smiled just like Damen. “My son tends to trust blindly,” she said. “But I have a good feeling about you. Is it a crime to want to get to know you better?”

The irony of her wording was enough to make Laurent smile back. “Of course not. I’d love to get to know Damen’s mother.’ He looked around the kitchen again, wondering when his father would make an appearance again.

“Just us,” Vannes said for him, grabbing her purse off the table. “Let’s go.”

Laurent insisted on sitting in the backset of the car, thankfully left alone to gaze out the window and watch the trees as they drove, contemplating the direction that his life had taken in the past week. 

They pulled up to a small café in less than ten minutes, most of the tables outside vacant. The two of them must have frequented the restaurant because they walked up to a small table without being seated, sitting beside one another and leaving Laurent to take the spot across from them. There was a fountain a few tables away, the exterior décor as simple as most of the architecture he had seen thus far. 

Menus were placed on top of their plates and Egeria hesitated with a hand on top of hers. “I don’t think they would have any in Veretian,” she said, glancing at the door. “Would you like me to translate?”

Like Laurent would sit there while someone translated an entire menu for him. “It’s fine,” he said, flipping his open. “Thank you.” He recognized the words _bread_ and _cheese_ , most likely some form of a sandwich. That was fine.

It took them a few minutes to decide on what they were having, the waiter approaching their table and filling their glasses with water in that time. They all made their orders, handing their menus off after.

“So,” Egeria said. “Tell us about yourself.”

Laurent’s fingers were on the rim of his glass. “What has Damen told you?”

“Damen isn’t one to over share,” she said. “Or gossip with his mother.”

“No?” Laurent said. “You both seem close.”

She smiled but said nothing else, glancing down at her plate. Vanned touched her fingers to her cheek. “How did you meet?”

Laurent frowned. “You know he’s my assistant.”

“Meet is the wrong word,” she said. “How did you get... properly acquainted?”

“We told you, I asked him on a date.”

Egeria tilted her head. “Damen isn’t easily unnerved.”

Laurent lifted a shoulder. “Maybe not before he met me.”

“Have you been working as a publisher for long?”

“A few years,” Laurent replied.

“Why publishing?”

Laurent looked at a woman sitting a few seats away, three little girls across from her. One of them was braiding another’s hair. “Books are one of our greatest gifts,” he said. “I couldn’t imagine working with anything else.”

Egeria was watching him when he looked back. “Damen says the same thing.” 

He smiled thinly, reaching for his water glass.

Their food arrived then, a cheese omelet with mushrooms and a side of bread rolls placed in front of him. They took a few minutes to eat in silence before Vannes spoke, dropping a few ice cubes into her drink. “Isthima has a great strip club, but Damen said you don’t like redheads.” 

Laurent lifted a forkful to his mouth. “I don’t like people who aren’t her son.”

Vannes turned to Egeria. “He’s even quicker than me.”

“Veretians,” she said, lifting the saltshaker.

“When did you come to Akielos?” Laurent asked her.

She ripped off a chunk of bread, spreading a thin layer of avocado on it. “I had a difficult childhood in Vere,” she said. “I visited when I was young and never left.”

“It’s quite different than Vere,” Laurent said. 

“It is,” she agreed. “But I was happy, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to start over somewhere new. I told Egeria the same thing when Damen left for Delpha.”

Laurent turned his eyes to Egeria, observing the way she skewered one of the cucumbers on her plate. “Does he talk about them?”

“Them,” Laurent said, slowly.

“You know.” She set her fork down. “His brother. Her.”

Laurent just looked at her. Damen never talked about his personal life, not that Laurent had ever given him much of an opening, but still. Damen somehow managed to always maintain a positive diligence, even when Laurent had him working his ass off. He never gave off the impression that there were things in his life that needed talking about.

Of course, Laurent of all people knew how deceiving facades could be. And then there was the obvious animosity between him and his father, and whatever had happened with Jokaste. It was clear that that relationship had ended badly, and she was making it clear to anyone that looked that she was pregnant. Laurent hadn’t met a brother yet, but that was sure to be rectified at dinner that night.

Laurent might have connected things differently had he been younger, but it had been years since he had been naïve when it came to family. 

“No,” Laurent said. “He doesn’t.” 

She was silent for a few seconds before shaking the conversation away. “Tell me something,” she said. “Something I don’t know about you.”

Laurent cut off a piece of omelet, pushing his fork into it. “I would assume you don’t know much about me to begin with.”

“All the more options you have to chose form.”

Laurent’s eyes followed the way the waiter balanced a tray of glass cups as he chewed, swallowing before speaking. “I moved to Delpha when I was seventeen.”

“Something else,” she said. “Please?”

Laurent rubbed at his knee under the table, pressing his fingers into the sides. “I can speak Vaskian,” he tried. 

She smiled like that was something exciting, like it was what she had been waiting for. “Really?”

“My girlfriend is Vaskian,” Vannes said.

“The one who you claim could beat Damen in wrestling?”

Egeria frowned at Vannes. “She could not.”

“Why don’t we test out that theory?” Vannes said.

Laurent felt an odd, bitter twang at that. He swallowed it down with a mouthful of water.

“Vannes has tried to teach him,” Egeria told Laurent. “Damen is excellent with languages, but Vaskian has so many different dialects, he doesn’t seem to grasp them all.”

“I can teach him,” Laurent said.

“Don’t,” Vannes touched his arm. “We need a language to talk about him in.”

Egeria scowled again. “You do not.”

“Do you speak?” Laurent asked her.

“Decently.”

“Then we can all talk about him.” 

They both grinned at him, and Laurent tried not to shift in his spot, keeping himself still. He was good at improvising and at molding himself into whatever the situation required of him, but he had absolutely no practice in family banter. Even simple conversation was foreign to him. 

Vannes asked him about where in Vere had had grown up, and it had led to the high school he had attended, a private school in Arles that she had graduated from a few years before him. Rather ask about what university he moved on to, he was asked about his parent’s whereabouts.

“My parents aren’t alive,” Laurent said. And before they could ask on anything else, “It’s just me.”

Egeria’s mouth gaped for a moment, her hand hovering before she thankfully set it back on her own lap. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wouldn’t have brought it up, had I known.” 

Laurent nodded once.

“My mother passed away when I was nine,” Vannes said, flicking the ash off her cigarette. A casual gesture for a none casual statement.

“It’s all right,” Laurent said. His skin itched. “I know how to be alone.”

“Laurent,” Egeria leaned forward. “You’re not- Damen would never let someone he loved be alone.”

Laurent made himself hold her gaze. This was what mothers did, he told himself. They made you feel cherished. They made you believe people cared.

But she wasn’t his mother. Even when he and Damen would get married in some courthouse, she wouldn’t be his mother, because they wouldn’t _really_ be married. Not in the way that mattered. And she might never know that, but Laurent did.

So instead he reached for his glass, taking a long sip before saying, “tell me about Damen. Something I don’t know about him.”

It was a mistake. Personal, intimate facts about Damen would do Laurent no good, not now and not in the long run. But the lines in Egeria’s face softened, and Laurent found himself leaning back in his chair, listening.

 

Damen probably shouldn’t have bothered. He knew where they both stood, and he knew what the outcome would be, but it was Damen’s father. Despite their disagreements, Damen couldn’t leave things unsaid. He needed to try. 

He had spent some of the morning simply walking around town, reacquainting himself with his childhood surroundings and everyone he recognized. By the time he got back it had been two o’clock, and Damen knew where he would find him at that time. Egeria had told him on his way out that he’d wanted to speak to Damen, and Theomedes always spent the afternoon in his study. He stood before the large oak doors, exhaling slowly before knocking twice.

_“Come in.”_

Damen pushed them both open, at first glance seeing his father sitting behind his desk with the newspaper spread out before him, a drained glass by a pile of books.

“Good morning,” Damen said.

“It’s not the morning.” Theomedes peered up at him, capping a pen. “Is this the time you wake up for your job in Delpha?”

Damen felt his fingers twitch in his pockets. “You know it’s not,” he said. 

Theomedes mumbled something as he set the paper down, leaning back in his chair. He motioned to the one before his desk, waiting until Damen sat across from him with his arms at his sides, fingers steady. He said nothing for a minute, the two of them watching each other in silence. There was a lot Damen wanted to say, none of which he ever would.

“Well,” Theomedes sighed. “Your mother is not too pleased with me this morning. Apparently, I wasn’t the most gracious host last night. Of course, it was a bit of a shock to find out that you were getting married when none of us even knew you were dating someone.”

Damen nodded wordlessly.

“The point is-” Theomedes rubbed the skin between his eyes. “I owe you an apology, son.”

Damen looked at his outstretched hand, knowing what it meant. It wasn’t an apology, and nothing was mended, but this was his father. He would never ignore his hand.

“Accepted,” Damen said as they shook, the word thick in his throat.

“There’s something else,” Theomedes continued, leaning back in his chair. Damen knew, of course. He had known this was coming since he’d stepped into the office. Since he’d stepped off the plane. 

“I’ve been going over my retirement plans recently,” he said, pulling a book forward and opening it up to a marked page. “Regarding the family businesses and the lineage of it-“

“We’ve already discussed this, dad-“

“I’d like to discuss it again,” Theomedes said loudly, raising his voice in that way he did when Damen had been a little boy, sitting here in this same spot and getting scolded by his father. “You’re a grown man, Damianos. You have responsibilities here.”

“I have responsibilities elsewhere,” Damen said. “And why are we doing this again? I’ve looked at the books, Kastor is doing an excellent job-“

“This isn’t about your brother,” he said sharply. “It’s about you. It’s about birthright.” 

“I’m happy with the life I’m creating for myself, dad,” Damen said. “I don’t want this, but Kastor does. It doesn’t have to be this complicated.”

“You cannot oversimplify everything to bend them to your will,” his father said.

“I’m living my life,” Damen said, pushing himself up. “And I’m sorry that displeases you.” He didn’t say another word as he walked out, the doors shutting behind him with a heavy slam as he ignored the dissonance he felt.

Damen hated arguing with his father. Their beliefs had always been so closely aligned, up until Damen reached the point in his life where he realized that he wanted to be his own person, make his own mark. He couldn’t do that here in Akielos, and his father couldn’t seem to accept that.

That was how he found himself in this position for the past hour, headphones blaring in his ears as he stood on the front lawn of the house, hammering away pointlessly at a canoe full of bricks, feeling the burn of his muscles and the sweat gathering at the nape of his neck as he banged down again, and again.

It was too hot out that day. When removing his shirt and wiping at his face and chest did nothing, he looped it around his neck and dropped the hammer on the grass, making his way back to the house with a bitter feeling of defeat. He slipped his headphone back in, having no interest in conversing with any of the housekeepers. 

He walked through the entryway, the kitchen and the living room, bounding up the stairs and pushing the bedroom door open. One glance around the empty room told him that Laurent and the girls hadn’t come home yet, and he only stopped by the closet to kick his shoes off and drop the shirt on a chair before he stepped off onto the balcony, the song switching to something faster, louder.

Damen leaned his palms on the stone edge and closed his eyes, thumb tapping a quick rhythm against his fingers to the beat. He focused on the way the sun felt, on the sweet feeling of muscles stretched and pushed, anything else washing away to be dealt with later. When he opened his eyes, he saw the spot where Laurent had stood that morning.

He had been so stiff when Damen had brought his arms around him, his hands awkwardly lank at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. Damen thought of how it had felt when he pulled Laurent again him as he reached for his zipper, undoing it with a quick slide. He placed his old IPod between his lips and pushed his thumbs into the sides of the waistband, pushing his boxes down along with his jeans. 

His chest had been hard, unexpectedly solid against Damen’s. He could feel his breathing against his skin, his cheek pressed against one of Damen’s shoulders as he held himself tensely.

Damen stepped out of his pants and left them there on the floor, watching the way the water was still, not a ripple in sight from the clean air around him. He could feel the droplets of sweat running down his back as he took is IPod back in his hand, walking back inside with his clothes still on the balcony floor. It had been so long since Damen had used one of these. He squinted down at the screen in concentration as he tried to change playlists, the buttons feeling too small for his fingers. 

The marble was cold under the pads of his feet, the inside chill of the room a bit of a relief from the hot weather. Damen took a few distracted steps, walking aimlessly through the room as he gave up on the song change, clicking a random button in frustration. 

He was just about to look up when he felt something ram into his body, throwing him back unexpectedly. Damen’s own hands shot out and grabbed whatever he had just run into, the rapid movement of his arms yanking the headphones out of his ears. He felt two hands reach and grab his hips in the same instinctual way, and the added pressure against him had him stumbling again, his feet causing the thin carpet behind him to slip so that he was off balance, falling to the ground.

“What-“ Damen said with a grunt at the heavy weight of another body on his, and it took a few seconds of stunned confusion before he was aware of Laurent fallen on top of him, his hair soaked and his hands scrambling for purchase on either side of them, continuously slipping on the marble. Their faces were inches apart.

“What the-“ Damen said, cutting off abruptly when he _felt_ him.

“Oh my God,” Laurent said, seeming to come to the same realization as Damen, scrabbling more erratically now as he tried to push himself up. ”Are you-“

“ _Why are you wet?_ ” Damen said loudly as Laurent finally got himself off, throwing himself back like Damen’s body was on fire. 

“ _Why are you naked?_ ” Laurent nearly shouted as he tried to cover himself with nothing more than his hands, looking around the room rapidly and avoiding any form of eye contact. “You-“

He had to look away. Damen knew he needed to turn away and give him privacy, but he-

“Don’t look at me,” Laurent snapped as he yanked a towel out of the closet, wrapping it around his waist as quickly as he could and clutching it in a fist. Damen needed to- 

He didn’t know what he needed to do. Laurent turned with a scowl on his face, his eyes immediately widening when he saw Damen just standing there, turning back around and grabbing the first towel he touched. “You’re not even-“ Laurent tossed it at his body, gripping his own towel tighter. “Just cover yourself.”

Damen caught it with ease, entire body pulsing, his rushing blood feeling out of control as he dug his nails into the skin of his palms. His veins felt like they were burning, something primal inside him flaring when he caught the way Laurent’s eyes wandered right before he wound the towel around his waist.

He knew Laurent was saying something but he was paying him no attention, his own eyes still roaming. The damps ends of his hair were dripping, running down the smooth line of his chest and passed his pink, puckered nipples. His legs-

“Explain yourself,” Laurent said loudly, loud enough to break Damen out of his trance and distract him from pulling Laurent’s towel off and pressing him against the wall.

“Explain myself?” Damen said, pointing towards his chest and not caring if the towel slipped. “I was on the balcony, _you_ jumped _me_.”

“I didn’t mean to-“ Laurent started before changing course. “How did you not hear me walk in?”

“I was listening to music,” Damen said, motioning to the iPod on the floor. “And ‘walk’? You nearly straddled me from force.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. Wrong images, wrong time. 

Laurent narrowed his eyes, looking like he wanted to throw Damen’s shoes at him. “I forgot my things,” he said. “I didn’t want to-“ he cut himself off again, waving his hand with the one not holding his towel up. “Forget it. Go take a fucking shower, you smell terrible.”

“Fine,” Damen said, stepping around him and knowing it was best that he got out of sight before Laurent saw anything that really turned him homicidal. “Nice tattoo, by the way.”

He stepped inside as quickly as possible, the door shutting behind him. The towel fell to his feet as he dropped his head back, carding his fingers through his hair so his nails scraped his scalp, his body nearly aching with what he knew was misplaced yearning. 

The air was thick and damp around him, the mirrors covered in steam, the walls and floor still wet from Laurent’s shower. Damen looked at the spot where Laurent had just stood, naked, washing himself, and he groaned silently in resolve as he walked forward and stepped into the same spot, sliding the glass doors shut behind him.

It only took a few minutes for the water to heat up as it had just been in use, steam rising around him as he filled his hands with shampoo, lathering it between his palms and running his fingers through his hair, acting on some ridiculous form of delayed gratification as if he didn’t know where this was going. He washed his body slowly, determinedly, his mind surging with electric, daring thoughts as he rubbed beneath his arms, across his shoulders, down his chest, hands wet and soapy.

Damen’s fingers were slick as he reached between his thighs, his desperation making him clumsy as he fisted his cock without any finesse, already half hard from the sight of Laurent’s unimaginable body and the hardly contained thoughts of everything he wanted and knew he couldn’t have.

His touch was steady and determined as he held himself tightly, the water rushing down on him as he moved his wrist from base to tip, a continuous up and down as he stroked himself to full hardness. He let his head fall back against the tile and allowed himself to imagine every terrible, helpless thing he had ever thought about when he was in this exact situation, in the shower or his bed or the one or two frustrating times in the bathroom at the office.

Laurent pushed down against his desk, papers and books scattered all over the floor with his hands pinned above his head, wrists held together between Damen’s hand. Splayed out on the table in the conference room, his entire body writhing under Damen’s mouth, pale skin flushed and hot, marks left behind on his neck, his hips, his thighs. Up against the wall in Damen’s bedroom with a hand in Damen’s hair, on his stomach on Damen’s sheets with his face buried in his pillow. 

Damen twisted his wrist, changing his grip as he took his lip between his teeth, thinking he might split the skin as he thought of what Laurent had felt like sprawled out on top of him, his cock against Damen’s thigh, his skin taut and wet against Damen, the two of them fitting against each other perfectly. 

His legs were long, the pale stretch of his thighs and the dusting of light golden hairs leading to the quick flash he’d gotten of Laurent’s perfect ass, toned and curved.

The palm of his free hand fell heavily against the glass shower wall, and Damen couldn’t help but think of how it would look from the outside to see Laurent pressed up against it, the image of his skin blurred and unclear, water running down his body as Damen took him in his mouth. 

Damen heard the moan that slipped out from between his parted lips, too far gone in the image of how Laurent would look from the position of his knees to care. His hand was pumping his cock frantically then, hips moving with his wrist in uncontrollable jerks as he thought of Laurent’s lips, the gentle press of them, the soft sound he had made into Damen’s mouth that he probably wasn’t even aware of.

Damen groaned louder then, some deeply gutted incoherency that pushed at his chest and echoed between the walls. He reminded himself to try to be quiet, that Laurent was only a handful of feet outside the door.

But fuck, than only made it worse. What if he hadn’t gotten dressed yet? What if he’d dropped the towel as soon as Damen had been out of sight and laid himself down on the bed, his warm limbs splayed out, buzzing and sensitive on the cold sheets as he settled himself comfortably, his thoughts on Damen.

Damen thought of that, not caring about realism or probability as he fucked into his fist, movements firm as he conjured up the image of Laurent on his back, hand falling between his legs, elegant fingers around his beautiful cock. He was in perfect proportion with the rest of his body, and Damen didn’t know how he was supposed to look at Laurent now and not think about how he would give nearly anything to kiss every inch of his skin.

Or maybe his hand would go farther back, pressing a helpless finger inside. Damen could imagine that, his cheeks surely spreading pink with a flush as he stretched himself slowly, opening himself for Damen. Damen could do nothing to stop the image of spreading Laurent’s legs wider and sinking into him in one single, deep thrust.

His own head hit the wall, panting as he felt his stomach tighten, nearly coming at the thought of it alone, of tight, gripping heat. Sometimes he thought about going fast, flipping Laurent onto his stomach and kissing the dip of his back briefly before grabbing onto him, holding Laurent’s hips in place and fucking into him at the pace he craved, the breath ribboning out of Laurent as he took all of Damen, moving against him in equally timed rolls. 

Damen slowed his hand down deliberately, lips pressing together as he pushed his thumb into the slit, circulating the head before moving back down to the base. 

Often, he thought about it slow. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know what it was, the thought almost contradictory, but most of the time he found himself imagining Laurent under him, blue eyes wide and glazed as Damen wrapped his legs around his waist, rocking his cock into Laurent slowly, slower with each thrust, their lips only managing to touch in breathless sweeps, gasps against each other’s face.

He would wrap his arms around Laurent. He would make sure every inch of their bodies were pressing as he kissed him, only pausing so he could look into his eyes from time to time, just to remind himself that he was real.

Would Laurent say his name? Would he mouth it helplessly, hands clawing at Damen’s arms, down his back in desperate scratches, or would he whisper it into Damen’s ear on a thrust angled just right. 

That was what finally did Damen in, the thought of Laurent gasping his name into his ear as Damen pushed into him, feeling Laurent surrender against him as his own name left Laurent in breathless pants, Damen’s face pressed into his neck as he rocked himself through his own climax, spilling inside Laurent in hot pulses.

Damen was breathing raggedly, his chest and shoulders moving with him as he stroked himself through all of it, unable to do anything more than lean his entire body against the wall and breathe when he was finished, water still soaking him.

Eventually he pushed himself up, making sure he was entirely cleaned off before he shut the water, sliding the door open and stepping out. He wiped the condensation away from the mirror and looked at himself as he leaned forward on his hands, knowing he was in trouble. This wasn’t going to get easier. It was only going to get harder.


	6. Chapter 6

Laurent had already been dressed when Damen came back into the room, his own hair still wet from the shower. He still had only a towel around his waist as he had walked straight into the bathroom without grabbing any clothes, glancing at Laurent in passing as he walked over to the closet where he had unpacked his bags earlier.

“It’s over eighty-five degrees outside,” Damen said. “You’ll be hot dressed like that.”

Laurent was silent, and Damen looked over his shoulder fleetingly to see that Laurent hadn’t looked from the stack of papers he had in front of him, turning a page like he hadn’t heard him. Damen looked back to the piles and ran his fingers along the folds. He had only ever worn suits around Laurent, it felt odd to be going somewhere with him in casual attire. 

Damen grabbed one of his more distressed jeans and a white V-neck, reaching for a pair of boxers as he looked at Laurent again. He was engrossed in whatever it was that he was writing, marking something down with a pen, and Damen felt it safe to turn back around and let the towel fall, pulling his underwear on and then his jeans. He picked the towel off and rubbed his hair dry as best as he could, tugging his shirt on after. 

He watched Laurent as he sat on the edge of a desk and shoved his feet into his shoes, tying the laces without looking. One of Laurent’s legs was crossed under the other as he rifled through the stack, eyes never straying from the words. The tip of the pen was in his mouth.

“What are you working on?” Damen asked, standing up.

“The newest author from Dice left me a rough draft,” Laurent muttered, scribbling something down again.

Damen sprayed himself with his cologne, capping it after and setting it down on a shelf. “How is it?”

“Rough.” Laurent pilled everything together, setting it down on one of the bedside tables and finally looked up. He glanced at Damen, his eyes unwavering before he stood.

“Are you ready?”

Laurent glanced at the door, not moving from his spot. “Who exactly will be at this?”

“My parents,” Damen said. ”Kastor and Jokaste.”

Laurent tilted his head to the side. “Kastor?”

Damen paused as he reached for his phone, licking his lips. Had Kastor not come up between them? He thought on it, trying to recall if they had met, the string of people they had seen the previous day all muddled in his head. “My brother.” 

“And you’re lumping him in the same sentence as your ex girlfriend?”

Damen shoved his phone into his back pocket, pushing off the desk and walking around the blankets on the floor that he had slept on. “Nikandros,” he continued. “Vannes.”

Laurent was walking beside him, closing the door behind them. He didn’t mention either of them again, instead saying, “I haven’t seen much of your father.”

“My uncle Makedon will be there,” Damen said, now on the stairs.

Laurent walked quicker, waiting for Damen before he took a few steps into the kitchen, looking out through the archway that led into the dining room. “Is this gathering at a restaurant?”

“Outside.” Damen motioned to the doors with his head. “My mom likes eating in the garden at night.”

Laurent took a few steps towards the direction of the doors, no one visible form their vantage. Damen began to walk after him, only to stop in confusion when Laurent touched a hand to his chest, pushing at an angle that turned Damen so they faced each other.

“Anything I should know?” Laurent asked.

Damen looked at the way his shirt wrinkled under his fingers before lifting his eyes. “Such as?”

Laurent exhaled like Damen’s confusion was trivial. “We’re supposedly engaged,” he said.

“We _are_ technically engaged,” Damen corrected. 

“And therefore, we would know everything about each other,” he continued. “Is there anything I should know about you, or you and your family that they would expect me to know?”

It took a few seconds of his direct stare before Damen understood. “No,” he said, removing Laurent’s hand.

“Damen,” Laurent said, sounding oddly sincere, despite no one being around. “If a reference is made and I have no idea what I’ve spoken myself into, we’re going to have a problem. I’m not asking you out of curiosity.’

Damen made himself inhale, letting it out as he looked out the window above the sink, his mother balancing a tray of drinks on one hand. Vannes was sitting on a lounge chair, smoking.

“We dated before I left,” Damen said. “She’s with Kastor now. She’s a few months pregnant. I’m not expecting children.”

If Laurent had an opinion, his expression didn’t show it. “What’s the family consensus?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Your mother doesn’t seem to like her,” Laurent said. “Yet she’s still around.”

Egeria had never liked her, even before. “They pretend like nothing happened.”

Laurent’s brow arched. “And you’re all right with that?”

“I don’t think they’ll be asking me for my feelings on my cheating ex girlfriend and brother over dinner,” Damen said. “Is that all?”

“I don’t know,” Laurent looked at him pointedly. “You tell me.”

Looking at him similarly, “that should cover it. Anything else?”

“Yes,” Laurent said. “How big are you on public displays of affection?”

Damen’s eyes widened a fraction. “What?”

Laurent looked at him flatly. “I’m not the first person you’ve brought home, obviously,” he said. “How do you act in relationships around others?”

“Oh,” Damen said. He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never really given it any thought. Just be yourself, we’ve been managing so far.”

That seemed to amuse Laurent. “You want me to be myself?”

Maybe then Damen would have a chance to get to know anything about Laurent, other than the scraps he had to gather himself, digging past his stony façade. He didn’t say that, of course. Instead, “does my answer even make a difference?”

“Meaning?”

“Say I’m openly affectionate with my partners,” Damen said. “Will that change how you act with me?”

A moment of pause, something in the oven beeping as Laurent’s eyes roamed his body without subtly, stopping at his face as he stepped forward, two slow strides like he was daring Damen to close the distance himself. His lips were pursed, his eyes still as he lifted a hand, thumbing at the hem of Damen’s shirt. “Have you forgotten what I said yesterday?” Laurent asked. His voice was low, a murmur. His lips were hardly moving.

“Yesterday,” Damen repeated. Laurent’s fingers were on his collarbone. 

“I told you,” Laurent gazed up at him. “I can act like I’m in love with you. If that’s what you want.”

His hand had moved down, fingertips sweeping Damen’s chest before he pulled away, hands back at his sides, though he did nothing to put distance between them. His head was tilted back enough so they were looking at each other.

“It’s not about want,” Damen said. His voice sounded low in his ears. 

“Sure it is,” Laurent replied. “We can do whatever you want.”

“I want,” Damen licked his lips. “For us to work out.”

Their job. Their job was important to them. 

“Then we will,” Laurent said. Before Damen could question him, could ask if there was anything _he_ should know about _him_ , he was being pulled towards the door, their fingers clasped. Despite the straight line of his shoulders, Laurent’s pinky looped around his like they held hands every day, their arms brushing as they stepped outside, into the fresh scents of the blossoms. 

They needed to wind around the house and walk through the yard before they reached the patio where everyone was sitting, far enough that Damen and Laurent would see them before anyone noticed their approach. Crickets could be heard as they walked, the air salty with the ocean that wasn’t too far and the sounds of laughter and chatter the closer they got.

Damen’s mom had always loved tending to the gardens, so many selections of flowers that he couldn’t begin to point them out, both sprouting from the ground and hanging planters that had been fastened around the deck. Twinkling lights were strung around trees and the outer walls of the house, orange glowing across the table and against the long stretch of the night blackened lake, torches stuck in circles along the grass, lining the water. Damen’s eyes were only on Laurent as he looked around, his expression unreadable.

“Look,” Damen heard, removing his eyes at the voice. “The happy couple.”

They were still a ways off from the small cluster where everyone was gathered, whoever it was having to leave the group and approach them. He turned his head and came face to face with Kastor. 

“Hi,” Damen said.

Kastor’s eyes remained on Damen as he lifted his bottle of beer to his lips, taking a long, deep drink before lowering it again, the liquid swishing around in the glass. His eyes fell on Laurent as he licked his glistening lips off. Damen felt their fingers tighten.

Kastor noticed, glancing down at their hands with a flick of his eyes. “Nervous I’ll steal your boyfriend too?” He took another mouthful.

“Don’t worry,” Laurent said. “I have taste.”

“Damen and I look very similar,” Kastor said. 

“I have standards,” he said instead.

“I told you,” Damen said. “He’s my fiancé.” 

“Right.” Kastor tossed his bottle aside on the grass, his hands in his pockets after. “Gotta rush to be married first so the family isn’t shamed again.”

It was the insinuation that bothered Damen more than anything, the idea that Kastor actually felt any such thing, or that he thought that Damen did. 

“I’m confused,” Laurent said. “What exactly is the shameful follow up to stealing someone who only knows how to keep it in the family?” 

Kastor’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head, his jaw a hard line. Before he could speak his phone rang, and he glanced at the screen for a moment before swiping across it, walking around the two of them without so much as a goodbye glance and making his way into the house.

The grass was crunching again the second the door shut behind him, Nikandros now approaching them with his arms crossed, his gaze alternating between the two of them. He seemed to radiate displeasure from a distance.

“Does he know?” Laurent asked quietly, tilting his head near Damen’s. “Or does he just not like me?”

Damen rubbed at his chin, needing to let go of Laurent’s hand to do so. “Both, I’d say.”

“That was fast,” Laurent said. “We’ve only had one conversation.”

“To be fair,” Damen muttered, “my past choices didn’t give you a good start.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” 

Damen turned to him with a frown, but Nikandros was in front of them before he could formulate a response.

“Nikandros,” Laurent smiled. “Are you also here to voice your interest in fucking me?”

Nikandros turned to Damen, but all Damen could do was shrug. “Kastor is in a mood.”

“Kastor has been in a mood for twenty-five years,” Nikandros said. “Nothing is new.”

“Well, that’s offensive,” Laurent said. “I would think your best friend getting engaged is new enough to excite you.”

Nikandros looked like he was imagining shaking Laurent, a feeling Damen was all too familiar with. It was nice to be on the outside, rather the one experiencing it. “The only reason I haven’t commented,’ he said. “Is because I know Damen won’t listen to me.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Laurent said. “I wouldn’t have slept without your blessing.”

“I’m sure you’ll be sleeping very well in Delpha when you’ve forced Damen to be binded to you.”

“Stop saying force,” Damen said. “And I thought you weren’t commenting?”

“Damianos!” Egeria called out, and they all looked to see her standing on one of the patio steps, waving them over. 

Damen sighed, looking to Laurent. “Ready?”

Laurent grinned again. “You seem more nervous than me,” he said, surprising Damen by taking his hand again and pulling him forward, leading the way with Nikandros left to follow behind them. He walked trough the garden like he had planted it himself, like he owned the estate and had no reservations in flouncing through them like this was where he belonged and everyone else was just a guest.

The table was small and narrow, multiple glass lanterns lining the center, a bouquet of flowers placed in the middle. Plates and cutlery were stacked on the side rather at each seat, and the table was filled with platters of unmade food, his mom’s preference of everyone serving their own dishes. There were bowls of marinated olives, fruits and almonds, sliced up vegetables and different colored dips. Piles of steaming pita; both whole and cut into triangles alongside skewers of meat and roasted vegetables. Beside that, chicken, beef, veal and lamb. Assortments of other appetizers were scattered. 

Theomedes was sitting with uncle Makedon at his side, deep in a conversation that was interrupted by Damen and Laurent’s approach. Makedon’s eyes zeroed in on Laurent for a few seconds before he turned back to Theomedes, murmuring what Damen didn’t have to be near to understand.

Jokaste was sitting at the table was well, the seat beside her vacant and pushed out in a way that Damen knew had recently been occupied, though she didn’t appear disturbed by being abandoned, hardly seeming to notice it. Nikandros stepped in front of them and continued to keep walking, passing by Jokaste and taking the platter of freshly grilled meat from Egeria’s hands. She murmured something in his ear and he paused, nodding along before responding in hushed tones.

Vannes stepped into their view and approached them, squeezing Damen’s cheeks between her fingers like he was a child, reaching over and hugging Laurent without any reservation. Damen expected Laurent to shrug her off or stiffen, but he simply returned the hug with an awkward pat on her back.

“Where is your brother?” Egeria asked, stepping up to them as well.

“Inside,” Laurent answered for him, looking at the table. 

She smiled and touched his shoulder before saying, “Come, sit.”

Damen and Laurent sat down beside each other, Nikandros at Damen’s left and Vannes at Laurent’s right. Across from Damen was Kastor’s seat, then Jokaste, Then Makedon. Theomedes was seated at the head, the spot beside him vacant for Egeria who had gone to the terrace to get something.

“Ah,” Jokaste smiled, placing her chin on her palm. “My substitute. It’s nice to see you again, Laurent.” 

Damen let out a breath as he took the stack of plates and began to distribute them, putting his energy in making sure everyone had a fork and knife. 

“A substitute would suggest that something requires replacement,” Laurent said. Turning to Damen, “pass me the cucumbers.” 

Egeria returned to the table as Laurent took hold of the dish, Kastor joining them as well. Rather take the feta-crumbled slivers of cucumber for himself, Laurent began to spoon them onto Damen’s plate.

“I’ve seen you eat something similar at your desk,” Laurent said at Damen’s drawn out stare.

“Have you had Akielon food before, Laurent?” Egeria asked.

“No,” Laurent said, looking at all the courses that were already set out. “Food in Vere is quite different. The meals are more extensively done.”

“So you _are_ Veretian,” Makedon said, peering at him over his glass.

“I wasn’t aware that I was hiding my nationality,” Laurent said. 

Damen had no interest in watching the two of them spar over misplaced prejudice. He handed Makedon the cold bean dish that he knew he liked before he could reply and turned to Egeria. “I’ll take care of Laurent, mom. Don’t worry.”

Damen began to pass the starting dishes down; roasted cauliflower, shrimp saganaki, lamb sliders and salads. Nikandros handed down the sliced breads and tiropitakia, everyone filling their plates in spoonfuls. 

“So, Damen,” Jokaste said, lifting a sprig of asparagus between her lips. “How is the literary world treating you?”

“He wouldn’t know,” Kastor said. “He’s just an assistant.”

“He’s an editor, actually,” Laurent said, reaching for a saltshaker. The adults were busy in their own conversation, an invisible barrier between the two groupings. “What is it that you do?”

“I manage my father’s entire firm,” Kastor replied, his fork spearing a lean piece of meat. “It’s much more challenging than sitting around and reading books.”

“Yes, nepotism truly is a regretful fate,” Laurent replied.

“Try the tzatziki with your lamb,” Damen told him, wanting to stop this conversation before it started. He set the dish of white sauce drizzled in oil beside Laurent, half of him expecting Laurent to ignore it just to be difficult, to appear as if he knew all there was to know about Akielon cuisine like he did everything else. Instead, he looked down at it with pursed lips.

“What’s in it?” Laurent asked, after Jokaste and Kastor began to mutter to each other.

“Diluted yogurt,” Damen said, trying not to smile at the pinch of Laurent’s nose. “Mixed with cucumbers and garlic.” At the odd look, “It works well with spiced meat, I promise.” He took a spoonful rather wait and dolloped some on Laurent’s plate, right beside the edge of his food. 

Damen took a bite of his own cheese stuffed pepper as Laurent cut into the lamb carefully, moving it around the plate so it lapped up some of the yogurt, chewing like it was his first time, fork stilled by his lips.

“I know you probably have a mild remark waiting,” Damen said as Laurent swallowed.

Laurent took a sip of water before lifting another forkful, holding Damen’s gaze as he took a bite. “You seem to think you know me more than you actually do.” 

Damen skewered a piece of roasted zucchini and moved it around the sauce on Laurent’s plate. “You’re not always as hard to read as you think,” he replied, just as quietly.

Laurent looked at Damen with the tip of his fork still in his mouth, gaze incisive like he was thinking, or waiting. Damen found himself forgetting that they weren’t sitting alone. 

“Damianos.”

The reluctance to look away surprised Damen as he set his own fork down and looked to the direction of his father, his hand outstretched. “The grape leaves.” 

Damen handed them to Vannes, and she immediately pulled Laurent into conversation as she passed them over to his father before Damen had the chance to say something else. He turned back to his plate and felt a bump on his shoulder, Nikandros looking at him with raised brows.

“Yes?” Damen asked. He reached over for a pitcher of iced tea, filing Laurent’s glass along with his. 

Nikandros’ eyes followed Damen’s hand, but he simply rolled his eyes and took the pitcher from Damen. “I haven’t seen you in months,” he said. “Catch me up.”

So they spoke, falling into their own private conversation the way they always had, Nikandros knowing Damen well enough that they both knew the right questions to ask and the right things to say. He told Damen about his promotion at work and what some of the guys had been up to. When he told Damen about the girl he was seeing on and off and then asked Damen about his own previous proclivities, he hesitated for a few seconds before remembering that there was no reason he couldn’t talk about that around Laurent, albeit quietly.

“So,” Kastor said, and Damen and Nikandros both looked away from each other and towards him. “When are you getting married?”

He was slumped back in his chair, a wrist dangling from the armrest as Jokaste focused on something Theomedes was saying. There was nothing particularly cynical about his tone or the question, but Damen still tried not to react, to show any indication of skepticism. 

“We’re not sure,” Damen said. “Probably some day in city hall when we get back, neither of us are interested in anything big.”

“Since when?” Kastor said. “Nothing in your life has ever been short of a huge production.” 

Damen’s fingers tightened on the edge of the table. “Kastor-“

“What’s your problem?” Nikandros asked. “What have you wanted that you didn’t end up getting?”

Kastor turned to him with a cool gaze that he could have only learned from one person. “Are you still kissing his ass?”

“Nik.” Damen pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead, ready for the reunion to be over. He was contemplating pushing away from the table with the excuse of the bathroom so he wouldn’t flip all the food onto the floor when he felt the touch of fingers on his knee, right by the exposed part of his skin. Damen’s eyes moved down and to the right, something in his chest catching when he saw Laurent deep in conversation with Vannes, his hand extended to his left. 

Damen was awed by his capability of throwing himself into a role, touching Damen comfortingly despite how unlikely it was that anyone could even see under the table. Damen covered his fingers with his own, just in case they could.

“Damianos,” Makedon said, calling Damen’s attention away. “What is it exactly that you’re doing in Delpha?”

Damen should have anticipated receiving this question so much. “I work for a publishing house.” 

“A publishing house,” Makedon repeated, lips twisting. “You’ve run off to read when you could be running an empire?”

It was astounding how tactless he was, though that was the least of the thoughtless things he’d said in the past. Damen could practically feel Kastor’s indignation, their own father looking at him stone faced like Makedon was speaking sense and this was the best time to state it.

“There’s nothing wrong with publishing,” Damen said. “Or the way things are being run now.”

Kastor scoffed, and Egeria set her glass down heavily, the sound of glass vibrating in waves. Vannes and Laurent had stopped speaking, Laurent now slightly turned so he was facing forward again. When no one said anything, Egeria spoke up. “The main meal, please.”

It was Nikandros who moved things to the center where everyone could reach; the different meats, forms of bread and sauces that went with it. Empty skewers had been placed alone the table to begin with, and Vannes engaged Makedon in conversation, knowing Theomedes and Egeria would join in.

Laurent was looking at Damen. It was the same look that he would give that meant Damen had five seconds to get into his office and nothing less. His hand was still on Damen’s knee. 

“What?” Damen muttered.

Laurent was silent for a few seconds before saying, “make me something.”

Damen looked at the food. “You’re trusting my judgment?”

“He better be,” Vannes said, piercing a slice of chicken. “He’s marrying you.”

Damen couldn’t hear what he said to her in response, his words enough to make her lips curve as she bit into her food. He turned back to Damen and said, quietly, “yes.”

Damen took a circle flatbread and drizzled it in more tzatziki sauce, placing a few slices of tomatoes and sautéed onion on it. He looked between the chicken and pork before opting for the chicken, distributing it evenly before he wrapped the bread up, sticking a toothpick in it and handing it to Laurent.

“Thank you,” Laurent said. 

There was an interval in which everyone made their own meals, Laurent watching Damen fill his own wrap, significantly different that his own. He set his down and placed an elbow on the table.

“You think I can’t handle spice?”

Damen laughed into his bite, pressing a fist to his mouth. “Have you tasted your coffee?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Laurent said. “The two have nothing to do with one another.”

“Fine,” Damen licked a finger off. “If you want spicy, I know exactly where I’ll take you to dinner.” Laurent smiled into his next sip of his tea, and it was a few more bites before Damen realized how that had sounded.

Vannes stood from her table then, reaching for her newly filled glass. “I’d like to wish a happy birthday to my greatest friend,” she said, running a hand down Egeria’s hair. “And to many more.”

Her actual birthday wasn’t for a few more days, but the entire week was dedicated to her as far as Damen was concerned. Arms long enough to manage it, he leaned across Laurent and Vannes and took Egeria’s fingers, squeezing her hand. “Happy birthday, mom.”

“Happy birthday, honey,” Theomedes said, this voice lighter than Damen had yet to hear that trip. Kastor words were mainly to himself, Jokaste speaking loud enough for the two of them.

“Happy birthday, mom,” Nikandros said. Egeria blew him a kiss.

Laurent turned to her. “Happy birthday,” he said. “Thank you for…” he paused, his mouth opening and closing as his fingers around his glass. Egeria smiled at him in the way that she would when Damen would fall as a boy and scrape his knee, lifting a hand slightly like he needn’t continue.

“Thank you,” she said. “For today.”

Laurent nodded stiffly, turning back to his plate and reaching for his napkin. Damen looked at his mom, but she only winked. 

The meal continued on, and Damen found himself mystified to see Laurent and Nikandros conversing about something that had been in the news, something Damen hadn’t heard of and couldn’t contribute to. He didn’t mind, rather enjoying the experience of them both talking in a somewhat civil way. It had been Laurent that added on to Nikandros’ initial comment, and it was a few responses before Nikandros stopped replying uncertainly like waiting for some surprise in Laurent’s remarks. More than once, Damen reminded himself that they would soon go back to their room and the door Laurent had wedged open would be shut.

Damen heard a wet, heavy sound of breathing then, something like a jingling chain as the sound neared. He turned in his seat to see Hades running from around the patio and towards them, mouth open.

“Oh, Radel must have let him out,” Egeria said, just as he hopped up from the ground and straight on to Laurent’s lap. Damen heard a cut off sound of surprise, Jokaste looking at him like he had jumped on to the table and stomped on her food.

He looked away from her, immediately drawn to the way Laurent was scratching his back with both hands, smiling down at him like he had been waiting for Hades to make an appearance all night.

“That’s the nicest I’ve seen him,” Nikandros said near Damen’s ear.

“You’re going to get his fur on the table,” Jokaste said, glaring down her nose.

“I’m sorry Laurent, would you mind taking him inside?” Egeria asked. “You’re one of the few people he seems to like.”

“I’m going to turn in too,” Damen stood from his chair, clapping Nikandros on the back as a goodbye. “Thank you for dinner, mom.”

“Goodnight, you two,” Vannes said as Laurent stood as well. Kastor stood up, motioning to Jokaste as he walked in the other direction, one of the other entrances to the house.

As they walked back to the house Laurent said, ‘I didn’t get dessert. You’re a terrible fiancé.” 

Damen pushed the door open, watching as Laurent crouched down so Hades could hop out of his hands, scampering away with his tail wagging. “I’ll buy you dessert if you’re so disheartened.”

As Laurent stood up, he pushed his hands into his back pockets. “This is the second date I’ve been promised, and we’re not even around anyone for this one.”

Mirroring his stance, “You’re a very good actor,” Damen said.

“Am I?” 

It was all he said before he turned, walking to the staircase that led out straight from the kitchen, leaving Damen to watch his retreating back before he followed him upstairs.

Laurent was inside the bathroom by the time Damen entered the room, the door just shutting at Damen walked in. He rubbed his arm mindlessly as he walked to the closet, pressing his heels against the floor so he could push his shoes off, his socks coming off along with them. He undressed leisurely, folding everything and putting the clothes away before he pulled his sweatpants on, crouching down and onto his makeshift bed.

Damen sprawled himself out so his legs were spread in front of him, fingers on his knees as he looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time they had all been together at once. He wasn’t sure just how long ago it was, but he knew the reunion had been significantly different than he had expected it to be.

The sink ran, and Damen found his thoughts turning in a different way, trying to reconcile the person he was used to and the one he was seeing in spurts here, knowing that it was a matter of days before they were back to reality, back to a wall going up between them.

That of course led to more unbidden thoughts, like the fact that Damen was going to have to answer to Laurent in a professional setting as distantly and respectfully as he always had, which was going to be a little conflicting considering he now knew what their naked bodies felt like against one another.

The sound of the sink cut then, and a few seconds ticked by before the door opened, Laurent walking out with his clothes from earlier folded under his hands, his legs as unabashedly on display as they had been the previous night.

“Nothing you haven’t seen already,” Laurent said as he dropped the clothes off on a chair, getting into the bed.

“To be fair,” Damen shifted his body so he was facing Laurent. “You saw me too.”

Laurent pulled the cover over his lower body, fluffing two pillows between his hands. “I didn’t see anything.”

Damen’s laughter was warm as he leaned back on an elbow, the breeze coming in from the balcony welcome on his chest. “Sure.”

He thought he might see the faintest dusting of pink on the apples of Laurent’s cheeks, but that could have just been the lighting, or his own wishful thinking. He did however notice the easy, good-natured quirk to Laurent’s lips, and it had Damn’s mind spiraling again.

The way Laurent had constantly had a diverting remark, brazen and immediate like he had been waiting to say it. How he had refocused Damen’s attention when needed. Even his touch, there in a way that he probably hadn’t intended for it to be.

“Thank you,” Damen said, gaze now on the unlit fireplace, dark and empty.

“For what?” 

“You know what,” Damen said.

It was notably silent in the room, a stillness that he knew was not going to be filled. Damen almost wished they had lit the logs for the crackle of distraction.

“So,” Damen said, turning to Laurent before uncertainty turned into distance. “Will we be consummating our marriage?” 

Arrogant blue eyes met his. “Of course,” Laurent said, lowering himself into the pillows. “Are you more comfortable on your back or your stomach?”

The rush of heat Damen felt at that wasn’t particularly comfortable, Laurent more than likely able to tell. Still he said, “What would you prefer?”

“Sleep,” Laurent said, and Damen found himself laying on his side with a lingering smile, even as exhaustion took him under.


	7. Chapter 7

Laurent wasn’t typically one to purposely make things harder for himself. Life had done that enough, and Laurent wasn’t in the habit of allowing himself to stay down. He sought out victories, he kept himself moving, and he did what he needed to do to create for himself a better life. 

But sometimes he did stupid, needless things like pushing himself up enough so that he could watch the way Damen looked when he slept. 

He was on his stomach, an arm stretched upwards on the pillow so that his face was pressed in the crook of his elbow. Laurent could see the dark curl of his lashes, the way his lips were slightly parted against his skin. The thin blanked had slid down sometime throughout the night, a few faint scars visible on his shoulder blades. 

Laurent pushed the blanket aside and stood from the bed, his footsteps soft and careful as he walked around Damen, stopping to grab his clothes before shutting the bathroom door quietly behind him. He pressed his fingers into the counter and looked at himself in the mirror, reminding himself to make better decisions before he reached into the shower, turning the handle so the water heated up while he washed his face.

Laurent stood under the water, hands pushing his hair away as he closed his eyes, letting the heat unwind his muscles and make his limbs feel like gelatin. He indulged himself in a few minutes of simply standing there and letting the feeling of warmth soak in before he reached for the shampoo, pumping it between his palms.

His actions last night had been stupid. Damen was an adult, he didn’t need anyone’s help, and working with him for months had only solidified that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. But it was clear to Laurent that whatever problems Damen had in his family stretched past a cheating girlfriend, and what choice did Laurent have when sweet, stupid Damen was willing to let them all minimize him because he cared about them too much to do otherwise?

He rinsed his hair off, thoughts returning to the people he had been surrounded by. Vannes was Vannes, entertaining enough that she just bordered on annoying. Egeria obviously adored Damen, but Laurent couldn’t miss the way her love for one of her sons clearly outweighed the other. Nikandros was his friend, and he seemed just about as emotionally transparent as Damen. If the little bit Laurent had learned of Damen’s past love life wasn’t enough, Nikandros’s hostility with Laurent told him enough that it was clear that he was fiercely loyal to Damen, if not a bit fixated about it.

Makedon was a man with a mind wired by chauvinism, but those gruff types were all more talk than they seemed, and Laurent knew he could dispatch that situation another time. Theomedes looked at Laurent similarly, but it was followed by a form of disappointment, if not tinged with resentment that seemed to translate more when he looked to Damen. Laurent didn’t know what was severed there, but he could tell from the way Damen held himself around his father that it was more than just a father-son quarrel, and Damen’s patent avoidance of the topic had not gone unnoticed either.

Kastor was his brother, born in equal privilege, yet he spoke about himself like he was trying to prove something, and the amount of indignant self deprecation that he seemed to be surrounded by told Laurent that his reasons for impregnating his brother’s girlfriend went farther than simple distastefulness. It was very clear that Damen wanted nothing more than to maintain a relationship with the brother that so clearly resented him.

Jokaste was a wild card. People made selfish choices, even thoughtless ones that resulted in losing someone like Damen, but it was clear to anyone that looked that she didn’t seem to care much for Kastor, either. She seemed more intent on needling Damen and Laurent. 

Laurent heard the sounds of stirring as he finished drying his hair, blankets being pushed aside, a closet opening and shutting. He looked at the door like he could see through it, fingers tightening around the towel in a reflexive way that he consciously tampered down. He had seen Damen since the situation after his shower yesterday, he could do it again without making a fool of himself. 

He hung the towel on the shower door and grabbed his bed shirt, folding it up before stepping out and into the room. Damen was already up and dressed, typing something out on his phone as Laurent set his things down, suddenly feeling very unsure of what to do with his hands.

He heard Damen’s phone lock as he set it down and looked up, just staring forward like looking through a lens that was out of focus before he smiled, the dimple on his cheek deepening, and Laurent had to look away before he did something reckless like smile back. He turned for the desk he had set his things down on the previous night, willing the clutch on his heart to lessen.

“Good morning,” Laurent said, evenly.

“Good morning,” Damen echoed. Laurent heard the bed creak and he turned to see Damen sitting on the edge where Laurent had been, his weight leaned forward on his legs. His feet were still bare. “Did you sleep well?”

“You’re asking me?” Laurent said. “You’re the one who slept on the floor.”

“Are you taking pity on me?” Damen asked. He wouldn’t stop smiling.

“I suppose I could spare you another blanket,” Laurent said dryly.

Damen pressed his palms to his knees, pushing himself up. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go eat.”

Laurent’s eyes flicked around the room before falling on Damen. “This is your house,” he said, watching as Damen pulled the door open. “You don’t require me for that.”

Damen looked out into the hall before turning to Laurent. “We’re newly engaged,” he said, like Laurent could forget. “This is the puppy love stage, we wouldn’t want to be apart.”

As far as Laurent was concerned, puppy love was a myth created by the media to give people something to fantasize over and covet, needless pining over assistants excluded. Regardless, he found himself abandoning all the work that required sorting on the desk and following Damen out of the bedroom, down the steps and into the kitchen. 

The kitchen was full of natural light, shining in through the glass doors and windows, reflecting off the white surfaces. The air conditioning was on, the summery climate despite it being the middle of fall something Laurent still wasn’t used to. He rolled his sleeves down to his wrists as he took a seat at the bar, watching as Damen walked to one of the pantries and pulled out two large mugs, the handles curved. He filled both mugs with already brewed coffee, pouring in equal amounts of milk to each. He added half a spoon of sugar to his own, placing the entire cup next to Laurent.

“You’re funny,” Laurent said, adding in the appropriate amount before handing it back to Damen. He looked around to all the parts of the house that he could see from his spot. “Is anyone home?”

“Mom’s somewhere,” Damen replied, placing the containers back on the shelf and the spoons in the sink. “Dad’s at work, Kastor isn’t usually home.” He took a sip from his own mug, stirring the liquid around inside after before setting it down on the counter. “What do you want to eat?”

Laurent glanced around the room above the rim of his mug. “Don’t you have a butler for that?”

“Day off,” Damen said. “And don’t be pretentious.” 

“I’m not the one who was born into wealth,” Laurent said, but it was becoming clear to him that Damen had no interest in milking the fortune he had been handed, something he never would have guessed about him on his own. “Can you even cook?”

“Breakfast foods are hardly that complex,” Damen said as he walked to the fridge. “But yes, I can cook.”

“Fine,” Laurent said, trying not to think too hard about the fact that they were drinking coffee together in such a casual setting, waiting on Damen to make him breakfast. “Surprise me.”

Damen’s hand stilled in its riffling through the shelves, looking over his shoulder at Laurent like someone had just entered the room. A few seconds passed before he nodded, turning back to the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs, followed by feta cheese. “Slice these in half,” he said, tossing him a box of cherry tomatoes that Laurent caught with ease, nodding his head to a wooden display of knives before handing him a cutting board. 

A white onion was set beside the pile of tomatoes, and Laurent watched out of the corner of his eye as Damen heated a splash of oil in a pan, beating the eggs until Laurent finished with the vegetables. He used the side of the knife to slide the onions into the oil and sauté them lightly, adding in garlic when they began to turn fragrant, followed by the tomatoe halves.

Laurent took to placing a few slices of bread into the toaster as Damen added in a mixture of water and tomatoe paste, after the cherry tomatoes had began to wilt.

“This is,” Laurent said, watching as the toast turned a golden brown between the slots. “Domestic.”

Damen’s laugh was closemouthed as he added the eggs in, bubbling immediately as they hit the pan with a sizzle. ”You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I don’t do domesticity,” Laurent said, taking his seat again as he ran out of things to busy himself with. He continued to watch the way Damen moved around the kitchen like he was comfortable in there, pulling out two plates and placing the toast on them. As the eggs cooked in with everything else he pulled out a smaller bowl, filling it with yogurt, a handful of walnuts and a drizzle of honey, sliding it towards Laurent before turning the heat off, piling the contents down evenly on both plates and sprinkling them with crumbled feta. 

Laurent looked down at the yogurt that looked questionably similar to the one he ate most mornings for breakfast at the office as Damen placed the plates down between them, taking the seat across form Laurent. “This will be a week of firsts for both us, then.”

“What about this is a first for you?” Laurent said, cutting into the food as he ignored the fact that their knees would be touching if they weren’t separated by a counter.

“I’ve never brought a boss home,” Damen said, taking a bite. “Nor have I lied about a relationship to my family.” He tilted his head as he chewed. “Though technically, this isn’t a lie.”

“Technically,” Laurent said. He took a sip form his coffee before picking his fork back up. “For someone so transparent, you’re doing a remarkable job at acting like this isn’t weird.”

“I’m not that transparent,” Damen said. “And it’s not that weird.” Wasn’t it? Maybe it was just Laurent, his breath hitching every time their hands almost touched. “We’ve shared meals together before.”

Which was true. There had been many late hours, many times they had had no choice but to order in and eat together as they worked, Laurent retaining every suggestion Damen made whether he acknowledged them or not.

“You are,” Laurent said. At Damen’s blank stare he said, “transparent.”

“Yeah, well,” Damen nearly huffed, ripping off a piece of toast. “You do know how to incite a reaction.”

“I was rather awful to you,” Laurent said fondly as he took a large bite.

“Is that exclusively past tense?” Damen asked.

“I’m good to people who work hard,” Laurent said.

“I’m a hard worker,” Damen replied, and Laurent almost said _I know_. Laurent’s reasons for acting the way he had and keeping Damen at arm’s length had nothing to do with his work ethic. 

“I heard you graduated with honors,” Laurent said instead, seemingly out of nowhere, his mind replaying some of what he had learned about Damen at his lunch with Egeria and Vannes. 

Damen lifted a shoulder as he drained his cup. “I’m an easy learner, I’m just better at hands on things.” Which really, wasn’t a visual Laurent needed placed in his head. “How did you do in school?”

Laurent scratched at his thigh. “Well.”

“Well,” Damen repeated, setting his fork down. “That’s all I get?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you won’t tell me anything else about you?”

Damen had said something similar to him on their first night in Akielos, and Laurent’s feelings on the matter were the same. Damen getting to know Laurent or leaning things about him that he might like would not benefit either of them in the long run.

When Laurent said nothing Damen looked back down, the two of them finishing off their food in silence. When they were done and Laurent had managed to scrape every bit of yogurt out of the sides of the bowl, Damen took their dishes and placed them in the sink. Rather run them with water he stepped around the counter, taking the barstool beside Laurent and pulling out his phone.

“One of our authors from Tourtaine sent me a proposal,” Damen said, swiping through links before he found whatever he was looking for. “Tell me what you think.”

He leaned in as Laurent took the phone from him and began to read through the work, close enough that he could feel Damen breathing against his neck, his chest pressed against Laurent’s shoulder. Laurent’s thumb was steady as he swiped down, his attention narrowed to everything before him. For a moment it was like it used to be between them, before the lines began to blur. Before Laurent had began to allow them to.

“What do you think?” Damen murmured by his ear when Laurent reached the bottom of the email, centimeters away from the words becoming shapes against his skin. He turned to reply, only to be stopped by the press of Damen’s knees and the inches that separated their faces.

“About the proposal?” Laurent asked.

Damen’s grin was slow building. “Yeah.”

“It needs work,” Laurent said. “But I think it could go somewhere.”

“Damianos,” Egeria said, walking into the kitchen before Damen could reply. She was wearing quite high heels; Laurent normally would have heard them from far away on these uncarpeted floors. “Laurent.”

“Hi, mom,” Damen said, pulling away. 

She was pulling a thin shawl around her arms, standing across the counter from them. “How did you sleep, Laurent?”

“Fine,” Laurent said, keeping his tone neutral. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been asked about something so mundane so consistently. “Thank you.”

“What do the two of you have planned for today?” She asked, making for the sink and turning the faucet on.

Damen glanced to the side for a moment before standing up form his seat, making his way around and brushing his mom aside gently, taking the sponge from her hand. “Nothing.”

“Nothing,” she repeated, looking between the two of them. When Laurent didn’t argue she said, “but it’s only your third day in Akielos, there’s still so much for you both to do.”

“We’re fine, mom,” Damen said as he scrubbed at the plates. “We just want to relax today.” 

She turned to Laurent. “Would you like to join us again?”

Damen rinsed off the last dish, placing it on the drying rack before he kissed his mom on the head. “Go out with your friends,” he said. “Don’t worry about us.”

“You’re father and I are going out tonight,” she said. “You’ll handle dinner?”

“I think we can manage.”

She grabbed a set of keys off a shelf by the sink with a slightly disgruntled look on her face, nodding at Damen before waving a hand in Laurent’s direction, leaving from the same door she came through. Laurent listened to the fading sound of shoes, waiting until the door shut before he looked at Damen. “Nothing?”

Damen dried his hands off on a towel, leaning back on the sink as he dropped it aside. 

“Did you want to go somewhere?”

“No,” Laurent said, knowing he needed a break from all of _this_.

“I didn’t think you did,” Damen said. His continued to look at Laurent, watching him with this careful consideration like it was all he planned to do before he pushed off the counter. “Come on.”

Laurent blinked twice. “What?”

“Come with me,” Damen said, beckoning aside with his chin.

Laurent looked to the door Damen was heading towards, his fingers curled around the edge of the stool between his legs. “Did we not just discuss that we weren’t going anywhere?”

Damen stopped with a hand on the doorway, dropping his head forward before turning. “Stop being so difficult,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

Another second of hesitation passed before curiosity won out, prompting Laurent to step down and walk after Damen, following him into the hallway that led them into the living room. Laurent looked around the large room with a twist of his neck, the realization that he hadn’t been in there since he and Damen had kissed in front of everyone dawning on him like walking into a brick wall.

In actuality, Laurent hadn’t even seen any parts of the house other than this room, the kitchen and their bedroom, something he only realized then. He hadn’t expected some grand tour, but it was odd to think that he was temporarily staying in this place that resembled a modern palace and he hadn’t even seen half of it.

Damen must have had the same idea, because he beckoned Laurent over again with a hand as he took one of the doors Laurent’s hadn’t even noticed, keeping a steady pace so they walked side by side down the long hall. Laurent listened to their steps as they rounded a corner, taking the second door down which opened up into the largest room Laurent had yet to see, nearly resembling a ballroom.

“This is ridiculous,” Laurent muttered as he eyed the crystal chandelier above them, having no trouble at all at picturing all of the lavish events that had probably been held there, flowing dresses and tuxedos and glasses of champagne.

“My parents are well known around here,” Damen said as they walked to the end, stepping between tall pillars that had no place in an actual home. “They like to throw a lot of parties.”

“I can tell,” Laurent replied as they walked through another archway, leading them up to two mahogany doors, tall enough that Laurent would have to crane his neck back to see to the top. “I don’t even want to guess what’s behind this one.”

“You’re no fun.” Damen had a hand on the handle.

“Our definitions of fun may vary,” Laurent replied. “You would probably chicken out of anything actually exciting.”

Damen’s laughter was a short breath, fingers bending around the metal. “We’ll see about that a different time,” he said, and then he was pressing down, pushing both doors open and stepping aside so that Laurent could enter first. 

The hallway outside had been dim, and it took Laurent a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the shift in light, the floor in there an endless expanse of white, the glass windows that extended from floor to ceiling letting the sun pour in in golden streaks that seemed to glow off the walls, the staircases that winded in twinned loops on either side of the room, the continuous, endless stretch of marble shelves that lined the walls and circled the entirety of the room, filling every spot that Laurent turned to with thousands of books.

Laurent was aware of Damen’s eyes on him as he stepped inside without any hesitation, just as he was aware of the cliché of the situation, the way he probably looked like some Disney princess, just holding himself back from spinning around like he could read each title in one turn, like he could infuse the brightness of the library into his soul.

He was running his fingers along a row of darkly colored books on one side, somehow at the opposite end of the room without even realizing that he had moved, fingers on the plush softness of a maroon couch as he read the spines of all the books piled on a table. 

This was exactly the type of room Laurent had always dreamt of, the lonely boy that had always preferred stories to acquaintances, the childishness that had stuck with him as he grew, knowing that this would have been the first thing he constructed if he had the money for it. Laurent felt a warm sort of peace as he looked at the colors and sizes and options, the only time he felt this way since they landed in Akielos, moments alone with Damen excluded. 

“Do you like it?” Damen asked, appearing beside Laurent without him even noticing, footsteps soundless.

“What, did you build the room?” Laurent asked, only realizing when he heard his voice that he was smiling.

“I actually did build some of the shelves,” Damen said, because of course he did. He looked at one of the ladders that were leaned on a wall before turning back, his brown eyes seeming even warmer as he looked at Laurent, probably from the skylight above them. “I thought you would be happy in here.”

“I,” Laurent tried, but what could he say to that? That he felt like a walking, breathing ice sculpture that Damen managed to chip at more every time he looked at him, that it was only a matter of time before Laurent was nothing but a puddle of water at his feet?

“I can’t picture you as a bookish kid,” he said instead.

Damen shrugged, leafing through a book in front of him. “Even extroverts need to be alone sometimes,” he replied. “And everyone has their problems. Books were a good distraction.”

Laurent looked at the set of his shoulders, the way he lifted his head and looked at Laurent like he was waiting for something.

Laurent wanted to ask. He wanted to know what Damen had gone through, what he felt and how those things brought him here, to this spot with Laurent right then.

But he couldn’t, because how could he ask for something he didn’t know how to give back?

At Laurent’s silence he shut the book, shoving his hands into his pockets as he took an aimless step back. “I have some things I need to do,” he said, stepping away again. “I’ll find you later.”

Laurent looked around again, his fingers already itching. “You don’t mind if I stay here?”

Something about that made Damen smile. A soft, tired looking thing. “I’ll see you soon, Laurent.”

Laurent was making for one of the shelves as soon as Damen was gone, climbing the ladder just because he could, touching everything in reach, wanting to absorb as much of it as possible. He eventually made a selection, a story he had never heard of and was intrigued by just by the title, clutching it in his hands as he walked to one of the sitting areas, digging himself into the softness of the cushions and pulling his knees up to his chest.

Laurent opened the book, feeling the crack of the spine in his bones. As he ran a hand along the page, fingers trailing the words and lines, he reminded himself that his life was not one of the fairytales he could select off the shelves, that this was all temporary. Damen may be bound to him for the next year, but it was in title only. Someone like Damen would never actually be his.

 

Damen didn’t seem to feel the hours passing him by that day, going through all he had to do without focusing much on time. He had spent the earliest part of the afternoon going through his father’s books again, weighing the business’ numbers and comparing how things had been when he had left to now, trying to get a feel of how things were running under the added ownership. 

Everything seemed satisfactory to him, and that only frustrated him more, the very fact that his father’s ire was hinged on nothing more than his conservatism, along with his own history that he was oppressing on them.

He’d spent the next portion of the day working out, opting for the equipment he had at home rather going out into town for a gym when he didn’t even have a membership anymore, not feeling like the extra options were worth the money. He made his way across the house in nothing but basketball shorts and dedicated around two hours to running on the treadmill, lifting weights and going at the punching bag he had assembled when he was a teenager and in need of release when the lines of emotion and physicality were blurred.

His shower had been quick and cold, and he only noticed the time when he stepped into the room in a towel, his phone chiming to signal an incoming text. He responded swiftly with one hand as he began to dab at his body, the hour appearing as he exited out of his messages and telling him that half of the day had gone by. Damen tossed the towel onto one of the chairs and made for his closet. If he was slow in getting dressed, it was because he wasn’t in any particular rush to immerse himself back into more confusion.

Damen wasn’t sure why he had shown Laurent the library. Maybe he was feeling bad about having an advantage, being surrounded by comfort and familiarity and wanted to even the playing field. Maybe he wanted to get Laurent off of his back for a while. Maybe he was sick of dealing with an impenetrable wall of glass and wanted to see it crack a little, utilizing one of the few things he knew would work.

He didn’t know what to do with the way Laurent had smiled, his fingers trailing the spines, the pad of his thumb collecting the gathering dust on the shelves like it was something to cherish. He didn’t know what to do with the way he had stood outside the library with a hand on the door, thinking about that smile for long minutes either.

He was standing outside the door again, hesitating for a few seconds before pushing them open, stepping back into what had been one of his childhood sanctuaries for the first time in months. He looked around the main area and the double staircases, searching for that blond head of hair that he was becoming far too used to seeing every day. The past few hours without Laurent had felt odd, incongruous almost, like they were becoming extensions of each other.

Damen found himself strolling through the shelves, his hand trailing the backs of the book similarly as he made his way through each, finding row after empty row. It wasn’t until he reached the back of the library, one of the most secluded set of shelves that he found Laurent seated on the floor with his legs spread out in front of him, a book open on his lap and three stacked beside him. He didn’t seem to hear Damen approach, his bottom lip between his teeth as he turned the page, engrossed. Damen tried not to think about how young he looked, hidden away behind a pile of books. Something about it made something in his chest twinge.

“Hi,” Damen said, waiting patiently when Laurent didn’t look up immediately, despite the fact that he clearly heard Damen. He held up a finger and read until the end of the paragraph, lowering the attached string bookmark between the pages and looking at him.

“Hi,” Laurent said.

Damen contemplated crouching down and sitting across from him, but instead leaned his back against the shelf, feeling the bumps against his spine. 

“Did you read anything good?” Damen asked.

“Yes,” Laurent replied. He looked at one of the books by his side. “I’ve come to the conclusion that our authors at Acquitart are useless.”

Damen couldn’t stop his grin if he wanted to. “Are they ours, now?”

“You’ve forced your editor position on me,” Laurent said, setting the book he had been reading on the stack. “The wording is now out of my hands.”

If there was one thing Damen knew, it was that Laurent didn’t say things he didn’t mean just to please others. He pushed himself off the bookshelf and tried to tamper down the strange, buzzing feeling that was stirring in his stomach. “I’m ordering us pizza,” he said. “Should I guess your toppings?”

“That wasn’t in the binder?” Laurent asked.

“Oddly, no.”

“I thought you cooked?”

“I made you breakfast,” Damen said. “Don’t get greedy.”

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Laurent said. 

“Should I come get you when it’s here?” Damen asked, but Laurent shook his head.

“I want to read in our room,” he replied, and Damen’s hand was outstretched without even thinking about it.

Laurent looked down at his spread fingers like he didn’t know what the gesture meant, like there could be some ulterior motive behind it. Damen wanted to joke about how they had already kissed, how their naked bodies had been on top one another, but he found that he was too busy holding his breath.

Laurent’s hand in his was warm, his grip firm as his fingers tightened around Damen’s, strengthening his hold as he allowed himself to be puled up. Damen bent to the ground and picked up all of his books, holding them in a way that showed that he didn’t plan on handing them over for Laurent to carry himself.

“Come on,” Damen said, aware that Laurent was trailing a few paces behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this and the next chapter were initially plotted to be one, but it was way too long so i had to split them. since this one came out shorter and is more of an interlude, i’ll update twice this week  
> i also put up a chapter count, no idea if thats accurate but it should be somewhere around that if you're curious.

Laurent woke up that morning to the sound of Damen’s voice. 

It was nothing more than a soft murmur. A boiling teakettle, the soft patter of rain against the window, but it was enough for Laurent’s eyes to open against his pillow, the low rumble of Damen’s voice in the morning like candy melting inside him. 

He was sitting up on the pile of blankets he slept on, leaning back on Laurent’s bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, his head slightly tipped back against the mattress. He has his cell phone pressed against his ear, and he was speaking in hushed tones to whoever it was on the other line, occasionally dropping to a whisper. 

“I don’t see the point in-“ Damen said, but Laurent must have shifted enough for the bed to creak because he stopped, his body remaining the same but craning his neck back so he could look at Laurent, lips parting slightly when their eyes met.

“I’ll see you soon,” Damen said. After a second, “yeah, bye.” He didn’t look at his phone as he hung up, dropping it beside him with a muffled _thud_.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice still a pitch lower than its usual tone like he didn’t want to disturb Laurent after just waking up. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” 

Damen nodded. “Sleep well?”

Laurent was starting to wonder how many times he could be asked that question, and how many variations of an answer these people expected of him in response. Pushing himself up he said, “How did _you_ sleep?”

Damen looked at him oddly, brows moving together and then apart like he was trying to decipher a code. Laurent could feel the smile threatening his own face, fingers tapping on the bedding.

“You’re at such a loss for how to respond,” he said, moving the blanket. “Yet you keep asking me that.”

“I,” Damen said, scratching at his head so that his curls became even messier. “Well, thanks.”

“You seem confused.”

“You seem… pleased,” Damen said.

“I slept well,” Laurent replied. He stood up form the bed and walked around Damen, aware of the way he was being watched as he walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He leaned his back against the wood and closed his eyes, allowing himself three seconds to focus on whatever it was that was happening in his chest before he pulled himself back into reality.

When he walked out of the bathroom Damen was in the same spot on the floor, his head tipped back on the bed while his fingers tapped against his knees.

“Apparently, there’s a thing today.” He didn’t change his stance as he spoke. 

“A thing,” Laurent repeated. “You can kiss the position of editor goodbye if that’s the way you talk.”

“Too late for that, sweetheart,” Damen said, picking his head up and grinning lazily at Laurent. He brought an elbow behind him and pressed it onto the mattress, leaning his cheek on his palm. “It’s a thing my family usually does in the summer. It’s like a mingling lunch with some sports thrown in.”

Laurent stopped riffling through the closet, a hand stuck on his jeans. “A what?”

“We’re in Akielos,” he said, unhelpfully. “We’re sporty people.” 

Laurent almost dropped his head forward in annoyance. These people were ridiculous. “It’s not even close to summer.”

“Well, I don’t live here anymore, summer is no longer an option.” With that he pushed himself up, stretching his arms above his head before he began to walk to the direction of the bathroom. “So, get dressed.”

Laurent was quick in pulling his clothes on, just shoving his feet into his shoes when the door opened and Damen rejoined him. He was scratching at his shoulder as he stepped past Laurent.

“Who can I expect?” Laurent asked.

“Everyone that was at dinner,” Damen replied as he pulled a black shirt over his head, pushing his hands through the short sleeves. “Lazar, who I think you met the day we got here. Probably his boyfriend Pallas.” He pushed his sweatpants down and stepped out of them mindlessly as he pulled out a pair of jeans, Laurent’s eyes remaining forward. “Vannes will probably bring her girlfriend.”

Having nothing to reply to that, Laurent settled himself against the wall and focused on the silence, unintentionally reflecting on the previous night when they had eaten together, not realizing his mind was going there until he found himself reliving it. Damen had called Laurent’s name from the kitchen stairway, and he had shuffled down the stairs and checked three separate rooms before he came across a smaller one, or small in comparison to all the others. Damen had been sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out on the coffee table, at some point having changed into basketball shorts and a hoodie, the sleeves pushed up below his elbows. The look was so casual and relaxed, the entire setting he had walked in on so cozy that for a second, Laurent wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

Damen looked back with a hand on the remote, paused over a button while he watched the way Laurent lingered in the doorway. “Are you coming?”

After Laurent had sat beside him, unsure what to do with his legs and how they were sitting so close despite the fact that the couch had three cushions, Damen opened up a box while clicking the TV on. Steam began to swirl up the instant the top was off, the aromatic smell of vegetables and sauce wafting around them.

“The salads you ordered at the office usually had peppers inside them,” Damen said as he pulled the box close, green squares spread around the cheese. “I hope this works for you.”

Unsure what to do with that either, Laurent opted to look around the table. “Where are the plates?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” Damen said, removing a slice and extending it to Laurent, drooping cheese and all. Laurent looked down at the grease and flecks of spice, the idea of sprawling himself out on the couch and eating straight out the box with Damen like a couple taking a little effort to reconcile with reality.

After Laurent had taken a slice and Damen had chosen one of his own, he settled himself in an even more comfortable position and extended a bottle of water to Laurent. “Unless you’d like a beer as well?”

“Water is fine,” Laurent said, turning his attention back to whatever show Damen had put on. He didn’t recognize it, but absorbing himself into other people’s lives was probably the best route in that moment.

They hadn’t spoken, the two of them focusing on their food and the show, and Laurent found himself even smiling a few times, something about the simplicity of the situation, the fact that a meal could be this _light_ appealing to him in a foreign sort of way. He tried his best to follow the storyline that was unfolding, latching on to each joke and quip seeming to be a better option that watching the way the liquid glistened off Damen’s lips with each sip. Every few minutes he heard a laugh beside him, some closemouthed and some carefree and open, and each one pushed at something inside Laurent like it was trying to get out. As one episode blurred into the next, the two of them losing count of how many slices each had eaten, Laurent wondered if this was what a life with Damen would be like for someone else some day.

“Ready?” Damen asked now, pulling Laurent out of his daze. “Everyone’s already here.”

Laurent shook his head as he followed Damen out, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “Do any of you know how to ever be apart?”

“Family is important,” was all Damen said, and Laurent was grateful that he hadn’t looked over his shoulder to properly reply. 

They walked their usual path through the kitchen and out the side doors, stepping out into the garden where they had had dinner with everyone else, everything feeling more open in the daylight. As Laurent tipped his head back to peer up at the clouds, he felt Damen’s fingers wrap around his.

Repressing a jolt, Laurent looked to Damen and saw him grinning down at him. “Are you forgetting that you’re in love with me?” 

He pulled Laurent to the opposite direction of the one they had taken that night before he could reply, tugging him towards the vast field with the lake at the end where he’d dropped his phone the first morning. There was a cluster of people loitering around the center of the grass, a table on the side with platters of sliced fruit, bread, cheeses and cakes.

“There you are,” Laurent heard, and they turned to see Vannes approaching them with a woman who towered over her, nearly reaching Damen in height. In actuality, she even seemed to resemble him in a more feminine sort of way. “We were looking for you.”

“I’m Talik,” the woman said. She held out a hand.

“Laurent.” He shook with the one Damen wasn’t still holding.

“It’s good to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Well, that’s concerning,” Laurent said.

“What have you heard?” Damen asked.

“For starters, that the three of us speak better Vaskian than you,” she said, grinning in a way that mirrored Vannes entire sly demeanor. 

“I’m not worried,” Damen said. “Laurent has nothing bad to say about me.”

Before Laurent could speak for himself, Damen bent his head down slightly and kissed Laurent right on the cheek, thumb brushing along his knuckles as his lips pulled away. Any response had left his mind quicker than it would have entered it.

“Damen!” Someone called out, and they all turned to see two other men approaching. One was Lazar, the guy who had prompted them to kiss in front of everyone, the other who he assumed to be Pallas, his build and features very starkly Akielon. Damen let go of his hand to exchange slaps on the shoulder with each as they exchanged some form of a greeting.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Pallas said, extending a hand as well. “Pallas.”

“Laurent.” 

Lazar nodded his head in Laurent’s direction with quirked lips. “We both found ourselves an Akielon,” he said, regarding Laurent like they were old friends.

“Mine works as my assistant along with everything else,” Laurent said, ignoring Damen’s mumbled _editor_. “What about yours?”

Lazar’s grin changed in nature. “Mine works hard in the ways that count,” he said, slinging an arm around Pallas’ shoulder. It was an awkward fit, Pallas considerably larger, but he seemed pleased nonetheless. Damen motioned his head to the side, and they all began to walk towards the area where everyone else was gathered. 

Egeria was speaking on the phone, her back turned to the rest of the people in attendance. Kastor was a few feet away with Theomedes and their uncle Makedon, whose eyes followed Laurent as he approached them with slow disinterest. Jokaste was seated on one of the few chairs that were arranged, fanning herself with a magazine in a slow, effortful way that looked like the trivial act was beneath her. Her free hand was on her stomach, and it took Laurent more than a few seconds to remember that she was a few months pregnant. 

He hadn’t thought of it the night he saw her at dinner, her clothing loose and other matters at the forefront of his mind, but now, he looked. Her gaze shifted upwards and she saw him watching, head tilting like a wilted flower. 

_It’s not your business,_ Laurent told himself. _None of these people are really any of your business_. But all he could think of as he watched her fingers circle above her belly, the tilt of her lips as her eyes drifted between the two brothers was, _she was with Damen_.

“Hey,” Laurent heard, and he removed his gaze slowly at the sound of his voice, turning his eyes to Damen who was standing beside him. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Laurent said, but Damen’s eyes still moved to where Laurent’s had previously been. Laurent looked only at him, and he watched as Damen’s eyes found hers, locked, held.

And then he was looking back at Laurent, his expression seemingly neutral despite the way his hands were pushed in his pockets. “Nikandros wants to wrestle.” 

Laurent flicked his attention to Nikandros who was watching them as well, his expression far less neutral. “All right,” Laurent said. “Are you asking me permission?”

“No,” Damen said. He rocked back on his heels like a nervous thirteen year old, which was so unsuitable that its intended lightheartedness was obvious. “Want to wrestle?” 

Laurent stared at him. “You’re not serious.” 

“No,” Damen repeated, and that fucking dimple was back. “I just thought it was worth a try.”

Laurent heard his own breath of laughter before he felt it, waving his hand in the general direction of the field. “Go. I need to mingle with your family.”

Damen’s stance changed slightly, his hand out of his pocket and wrapped around his midsection. His eyes were still warm, but his voice had less jest in it, shirt crinkling under his hand. “My mom loves you.”

Laurent squinted the sun out of his eyes. “She doesn’t.”

“She does,” Damen said. “I know her, I know how she regards people.”

Laurent waited for him to elaborate, or to walk away, or to explain why he was telling Laurent any of this. He did none of those things. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Laurent said. “That will change, eventually.”

Damen looked at him oddly. “Why do you figure?”

Laurent looked at him similarly, glancing around them in a sweep before lowering his voice. “Because even if they don’t find out, you’ll have to give them some reason as to why we’ve broken up.”

Damen opened his mouth to speak, closing it before he could even let out a sound, looking at Laurent like he had just been given the punch line to a joke and was trying to make sense of it. Laurent blinked back at his furrowed brows and glaze of confusion.

“Right,” Damen nodded. “I- yeah,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean-“

“Damen,” Nikandros called out. “Lets go!” 

Damen waved a hand back at him, and when he turned to Laurent the brown of his eyes were bright again. “Go bond to your heart’s desire,” he said as he began to step backwards, his hand going oddly behind his head to the back of his shirt. As he turned around and began to walk properly, he drew it off in a swift tug and tossed it aside carelessly, Nikandros pulling his own shirt off at Damen’s approach. 

Laurent turned his head to where the rest of the family was gathered, if not a bit rapidly. Theomedes and Egeria were standing by one of the platters of food and talking, a plate in her hands and a peach in his. Lazar and Pallas were a few feet off in a similar grapple, Lazar in an obvious struggle to flip their positions, and Makedon was watching them with more approval and happiness than he’d yet to show since Laurent had met him. 

“I know,” Vannes said, appearing at Laurent’s side unexpectedly like she tended to. “Well, _I_ don’t know,” she corrected. “But I can imagine how you must be feeling.” 

At Laurent’s look, she motioned to Damen and Nikandros, and Laurent had no choice but to look back at them. Damen had just rolled Nikandros onto his back, and he had both of his hands pinned above his head with just one of his own, arm flexing with the strain of holding him down. Nikandros was well built but clearly struggling, trying to outmaneuver his stronger bulk like Lazar had been. There was a line of sweat running down Damen’s back.

It was ridiculous. Laurent saw Damen’s upper body every time they went to sleep, had seen the strong muscles of his thighs just that morning, and had literally felt their bare bodies pressed together two days ago. He would think that by now this would become a normal thing for him.

“Talik keeps trying to coax me into it,” she said. “I don’t see the appeal of clothed wrestling.”

“They’re hardly clothed,” Laurent replied. Damen was still on top.

She nudged his hip with hers, laughing at the way he looked down at the motion with scrunched eyebrows. “You should see- oh. Hello, Makedon.” 

Laurent turned just in time to see Makedon stop in front of them, a plastic cup in his hand and a grim look setting his mouth. Vannes looked at Laurent as if seeing if he needed her to stay, which Laurent answered with a blank look. Makedon was going to have been his first effort, anyway. This just saved him the walk.

“So,” Makedon said, pausing to take a drink. “It’s true that Veretians are too insulated for any real activity.”

“Did you read that in a textbook?” Laurent asked.

“I’ve been to Vere,” he said. “The ornamentation alone suggests the cushy lifestyle.”

“I left Vere long ago,” Laurent said. “But I’m curious, is there any particular reason you’re not rolling around with Theomedes? Vannes and I can take bets.”

“It’s nice to see that my son has found another bumptious one,” Theomedes said, approaching the two of them with his own drink now in hand. “Unsurprising.” 

Not seeing any merit in taking that bait, Laurent’s eyes turned back to the field to see Lazar now sitting on the side with his weight leaned back on his hands, and he was surprised to see that Kastor had taken his place, doing a significantly better job at pitting himself against Pallas. Damen was watching them as well.

“In any case,” Theomedes continued, calling his attention back. “It’s unfortunate you’re not joining them, Damianos is a big fan of sports.”

“How nice to see you conscious of your son’s interests,” Laurent said.

Theomedes paused with his glass halfway to his mouth, lowering it before the rim could touch his lips. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, in the same tone one would say _what did you just say?_

The grass crunched beside them, and Laurent didn’t have to look to know that Damen was approaching them, probably getting up and coming the instant he saw the three of them together. He heard the distinct sounds of fabric rustling and turned to see him pulling the shirt over his sweat slicked chest.

“Dad,” he said, carefully. “Uncle Makedon.” He looked from Laurent to them.

“Dear,” Laurent said.

Damen didn’t even blink. “What are we talking about?”

“Can’t I get to know your fiancé?” Theomedes asked. 

“Yes,” Makedon said. “We were just discussing what sport he might participate in next.”

Damen looked down at Laurent, but Egeria was upon them before he could question anything, putting a hand on Theomedes and Makedon’s shoulder. “Make yourselves useful and go man the grill.” 

She was pulling them away without waiting for a response, motioning to a smaller table laden with cuts of meat and an assortment of buns, skewers of vegetables and multiple different containers of spices. Laurent was aware of Damen watching him.

“What?” Laurent said with his eyes still on their backs.

“What did you talk about?”

“I told you,” Laurent finally looked at him. “We’re bonding.”

Damen’s arms were crossed, which did nothing to help the fact that the shirt was already clinging to him significantly. “My uncle doesn’t bond,” he said. “Nor does my father.”

“I’m not worried about Makedon.”

“No?”

Laurent flicked his fingers. “A little bit of self-proving, some common ground, it’ll be handled in no time.”

Damen looked at him for a few beats of silence before saying, “what does that even mean?”

Laurent smiled. “Go play with your friends.”

He left Damen to stand there with his hands at his side and walked towards the table where there was a selection of difference drinks. He glanced over his shoulder as he reached for a cup to see that he had gone to talk with Talik, Vannes off to the side with Egeria and the men. Talik was waving her hands around animatedly as she told some story, Damen clasping Nikandros on the shoulder as he laughed along with her, the deep sound carrying. He smiled through whatever it was that he replied, laughing again as she shoved at his chest.

“It’s trying, isn’t it?”

The voice was like the buzz of a mosquito when you were seconds away from falling asleep. Laurent set a hand on the table as he turned back around, staring blankly at Jokaste. “Am I meant to ask what you mean?”

Most of her hair was clipped back, a few tendrils falling free and looping down her cheeks, grazing the shoulder. Her eyes were maybe a fraction of a shade darker than this own. 

“The ease with which he lives,” she said, lifting a hand in everyone’s general direction as if to say _voila_. “The discordancy of being with a man who exudes charisma as smoothly as oxygen. Damen doesn’t need to use his wit and careful planning to win people over, he just needs to enter the room.”

“Jokaste,” Laurent said, squeezing a lemon wedge into his tea before dropping what was left inside. “I hadn’t realized we’d grown so close that we were sharing our past trauma.” 

She regarded him without any sense of urgency, eyes pursuing him like she had just opened an order and was inspecting him with a comparative eye. “How are you enjoying Akielos?” She spoke above the rim of her own glass. 

“I’m enjoying more than Akielos,” Laurent replied.

”Oh, yes.” She leaned her weight down on one hip, fingers returning to her front of her dress in a skim so that her nails grazed the gauzy fabric. “I know exactly what that’s like.”

“Do you?” Laurent asked. “It seems odd you’d remember after the downgrade you’ve been dealt.”

“We all deal our own cards,” she said.

“Do we?”

“If you have a question,” Jokaste said, “Then ask it.”

“No question,” Laurent replied. “Mild curiosity at best as to why you’re here with them when you clearly love yourself most.”

She gazed back at him deliberately, her reply measured. “You speak about self love like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not when it’s genuine,” Laurent said.

Her smile was limpid. “Home wrecker, gold digger, call it what you will.”

“Travesty?”

“I see,” Jokaste said, dropping another ice cube into her glass. She swirled it around in circles like the only objective was to listen to the _clink clink clink_ , rather cool the liquid. “You’re looking for humanity in me, for my reasons for what I did.”

Laurent regarded her with a mild, unhurried tilt of his head. Something he had learned from networking, from working with creators and different forms of fabricators was that when people suggested an adjective with such a questioning tone; it was to make people think their idea was your own.

“I’m sure you think you have them,” Laurent said, candidly. He felt minutes past this conversation already and wanted to be done with it. “Which I don’t really care about. I also think that seeing him again makes you regret all of those reasons that probably never pleased you to begin with.”

Fingers poised around the edge of her glass, her sip was long and deep, a practiced way of seeming like you’re observing someone when you’re the one being observed. Laurent was well familiar with the motion; he’d had his own experiences in that area.

Her expression didn’t alter as they looked at each other, and everything about her was calm and composed, from the set of her mouth to the line of her shoulders. 

As she withdrew her hand, “does he like his life in Delpha?”

The words seemed to catch up with him a few seconds after she spoke. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple question.”

Nothing about a single decision Laurent had made since entering Herode and Jeurre’s office had been simple. “Yes,” he said, looking into her eyes. And if he didn’t, Laurent would no longer be one of those reasons. “He does.”

Jokaste nodded once, resolutely, something to it like a period punctuating a sentence as she set her glass down, liquid swishing around the sides. With her eyes clear of intonation she turned, saying nothing else as she walked back to her lone seat like a briefly abandoned throne.

Laurent turned around with all intentions of going to find Damen, only to nearly walk right into his chest, his tea sloshing in the cup from his abrupt stop. “What-“ Laurent said, taking a step back. “How did you even approach me so quietly?”

Damen was eyeing Laurent with skepticism. His eyes wouldn’t focus on a certain part of him.

“What?”

Damen’s expression didn’t change. “Do I want to know what you were both speaking about?”

Laurent leaned back on the table, crossing his arms. “You’re quite nosy today.”

“Laurent.”

“Does it bother you that I talk with your ex?” he asked.

“No,” Damen said. He had taken a step forward which proved rather problematic, given that Lauren had nowhere left to retreat to.

Without thinking, “Do you want to?” 

“No,” Damen said. “I don’t want Jokaste.”

Laurent’s hand was behind him, gripping the edge of the table far tighter that he had intended, only realizing when he tried to strengthen his hold and found that he couldn’t. Damen was standing considerably closer that necessary. 

“Did you come for something?” Laurent asked.

Damen’s eyes passed over him once, twice, an unabashed scroll that required a considerable amount of effort on Laurent’s part to not react to. He was good at that, he had had plenty of practice with being in such close proximity with Damen all those months.

“Yes,” Damen said. His focus seemed to linger for another moment before it snapped, eyes clearing as he nudged his head aside in a gesture so casual that it had Laurent following the movement like the answer to whatever had just happened would be there. 

“We’re playing football,” Damen said, smiling to a joke Laurent seemed to have missed. “How would you like me to get you out of it?”

After the question had registered, “excuse me?”

“Football,” Damen repeated. “Do they have sports in Vere?”

Laurent looked at him flatly, unamused with the cheeky nature his smile took. He looked out to the field where everyone was standing, thought it was clear from the position that only the men were playing. The only one who Laurent assumed would be interested was Talik, but she seemed content with sitting on the grass, Vannes in her lap. 

“Just be on my team,” Damen said. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Take care of Nikandros,” Laurent replied, raising his chin as he walked around Damen, making his way towards the center of the field where they were all standing in a circle, the football between Kastor’s hands.

“Oh,” he said, eyeing as Laurent approached. “This will be fun.”

He slapped one hand to the edge of the ball, and without any warning he changed his grip, hefting it behind his shoulder before he let it fly towards Laurent, spinning in smooth circles as it glided through the air and straight for his stomach.

Laurent caught it with both hands, tossing it up and catching it in one before he drew it behind his own shoulder, tossing it right back to him and turning away and towards Nikandros, ignoring the dull _thud_ of a ball impacting a chest. He dug a quarter out of his back pocket, flicking it in the air towards him so that he caught it, wordlessly.

“Flip it,” he said. “The first four people with tails will be on one team.”

Damen was standing beside him as the teams were arranged: Laurent, Theomedes, Lazar and Kastor on one. Damen, Makedon, Nikandros and Pallas on the other. At some point throughout this the ball had been thrown to Damen, and he passed it back and forth between both hands before he motioned to one side, using the ball as a pointer. “Those trees are one end zone,” he said. Motioning to the opposite side, “those are the second.”

As everyone began to scatter out, Damen turned to Laurent as he rolled the ball between his palms, eyeing him amusedly. “Are you sure you don’t want to go help my mom marinate the salad?”

Laurent grabbed the ball out of Damen’s hands, hitting it against his shoulder as he walked past him and after Pallas. “Stay out of my way,” he said.


	9. Chapter 9

It was shortly after the other team’s second touchdown that Damen realized that he might have been a bit distracted. 

Laurent may not have been as built or as sport oriented as the rest of them, but he was quick, and smart, and he had better reflexes than any of them there combined. He had mainly been teasing Laurent earlier, goading him on to see what reaction he would get. He knew not to underestimate Laurent, that he could likely do whatever he set his mind to, but he certainly hadn’t expected the poignant, exhilarating sight of Laurent knocking someone on their ass. 

He observed everything like a chessboard. He let the ball fly through his fingers with a strength that had it gliding over heads and across the field, the same precision and poise with which he directed difficult conversations, guiding them to the endpoint that he wanted. He ran, outmaneuvered and tricked, and it was somewhere between him dodging Damen’s attempt to block him and intercepting Nikandros’ pass that Damen realized that he was at times opting to watch the way his body moved rather do all that he could to help his own team out.

Pallas had scored the first touchdown, Lazar tackling him to the ground after regardless of the score already being made. The second had gone to Laurent, catching the pass that had clearly been made for Kastor and using the pause of unexpected confusion to escape anyone who may have stopped him and throw the ball well over the line that marked one end, a calm sort of surety behind it. 

The third had been Damen’s, though he’d hardly had time to bask in it because it was only short minutes before the other team scored again, that one a combination of efforts between Theomedes and Lazar. Refusing to allow the first half of the game end in the other team’s favor, Damen made sure to wait until Makedon was in the clear before letting him have it, him and Pallas knocking fists the second Makedon secured their touchdown, effectively ending that portion of the game in their corner. 

Egeria was calling out names the second the goal was clear, motioning everyone off the field and towards the table that had been filed with plates and platters of food. Everyone was dusting the back of their clothes off, rolling their shoulders and rubbing the parts of their body that had taken the greatest hit, and Damen found himself lingering by a tray of hotdogs until Laurent made his way to that portion of the spread.

Laurent was shaking a bottle of mustard, not paying Damen’s gaze any attention as he spread some liberally across his bun. He closed the cap with the same hand holding the container and licked the excess off his finger. 

“How’s your back?” he asked without looking, referring to the instance where Kastor had tackled him down with a strength that Damen had almost forgotten he possessed. Damen hadn’t even minded, the burn of impact one of his favorite parts of rougher sports. He’d cursed succinctly as his shoulder hit the ground, and despite the way Kastor hadn’t helped him up after, his laughter at the strangled sound Damen had made hadn’t seemed all that malicious. 

Damen squeezed ketchup onto his burger, spreading it around with a fry before slipping it between his lips, chewing through the flavors as he waited for Laurent to turn to him, taking a bite of his own. “So, you play football,” Damen said, dryly.

Laurent raised a shoulder. “Not quite.” 

At Damen’s flat stare he set his plate down, placing a hand on his hip. “Tell me,” he said. “Do I strike you as someone who would insert himself into a situation he couldn’t handle?” 

He looked back at him, thinking about the remote way with which Laurent presented their situation to him in his office days ago and the way he’d smiled at Damen when he’d shown him the library, elation spilling from the light in his eyes like he couldn’t possibly control it.

“Honestly?” Damen asked. When Laurent said nothing, “I’m starting to think I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

Laurent’s hand, which had been halfway off his side and back to the table paused by his plate, his pointer finger sweeping the edge as his eyes followed Damen’s own hand, pressing against the surface and leaning his weight down.

When it became apparent that Laurent had no intentions of replying, Damen snatched a carrot off his plate that he had picked up again. “So,” he said, taking a bite. “Are you proud of me for restraining myself from tackling you?”

“Considering the fact that you’ve done it before,” Laurent said, taking the half eaten carrot back. “I’d say it’s a matter of can’t, not won’t.” 

“Actually,” Damen said, his eyes scrolling from Laurent’s head to his toes and back up again. “I’m pretty sure it was you that tackled me.”

He delighted in the instantaneous color that hit Laurent’s cheeks, both from the sight of it and from the fact that he’d known that it would likely happen. He was starting to catch on to Laurent’s idiosyncrasies, and something about that appealed to him in a way that knowing more mundane facts about him hadn’t. 

“Makedon keeps staring at you,” Damen said, changing the course of the conversation before Laurent could retreat. 

“Makedon,” Laurent said, “is much easier to maneuver than he realizes.”

Whatever Damen might have said to that was halted by the sound of Laurent’s name being called, Damen turning to see Pallas, Lazar and Vannes seated at another table and motioning him over. He saw Laurent watch them warily for a moment before he grabbed his drink, leaving Damen to stand there as he walked over to their table and took the seat beside Pallas like it had been his all along. 

Damen watched them talk, Lazar’s elbow pressed to his upturned knee as he described something, motioning around and then to Vannes. She was the only one that was standing, one hand resting on the backrest of Lazar’s chair, picking up from where Lazar left off. Damen wasn’t sure what was going through Laurent’s head, but he nodded twice as he lowered his fork from his mouth and replied something that made Pallas set his drink down and turn to him. It was odd, to see him so seemingly comfortable with Damen’s friends and family, like he belonged there, or was meant to be there.

Or maybe odd wasn’t the right word. It didn’t feel weird, it felt-

”Are you sure you should be leaving him alone?”

Damen dragged his eyes away from the group and settled them on Nikandros, having occupied the spot Laurent had been in, a bottle of beer loose between his fingers.

“Why not?” Damen asked.

Nikandros ran a hand down his face, taking a swig of his drink before motioning to Damen with the neck of the bottle. “You trust him not to…” he waved a hand around.

“Not to what?” Damen asked. “Telling people the truth would only hurt him, and benefit him in absolutely no way. What’s the harm in him mingling?”

“He-“ Nikandros let out a rough exhale before he took another large sip, setting the bottle down and splaying his hands at his sides. “He presents himself one way and then acts another.’

“I know,” Damen said. He could hear the way he sounded.

Apparently so could Nikandros, because the lines in his face set immediately at the tone. “Damen,” he leaned forward. “You can’t be serious.” 

“What?”

“Are you forgetting that this isn’t real?” He asked.

Damen looked at Laurent who was the one talking now, the three of them hanging on to his every word. 

Laurent, who was cool and stoic and brilliant and detached.

Laurent, who smiled when he saw Hades and twined their pinkies when they held hands and wasn’t always as good at hiding his expression as he thought he was.

“Of course not,” Damen said. It may slip from his mind at times, but nothing had a chance at being real when one person refused to let the other in, and for all of his glances and slips and comments, Laurent remained a stone wall to him, and Damen was running out of ways as to how he could break it down.

“If your mom finds out,” Nikandros said, looking at Laurent as well. “She’ll-“

“I know,” Damen said. “She won’t find out.”

“Let’s go,” Kastor said loudly, tossing the ball to Damen and walking towards the field without a backwards glance. Damen looked at it between his hands and up at Nikandros who shrugged, stealing it from him and following Kastor towards the center.

They all scattered around the perimeter of the field, and the game resumed as it had the first time around, nobody giving anyone a moment’s pause to think or to huddle together and decide on a game plan, simply jumping back into things so fluidly that it was like they had never had an intermission. Damen enjoyed it, the months in which he hadn’t had any form of physical expression apart from his lone time at the gym feeling far too long, and he found himself on an entirely different side than Laurent, giving him the opportunity to redirect his focus onto the game as the first toss was made, springing everything into immediate action.

Damen ran here and there, his eyes never straying from the ball or who had it in that moment, and he’d played the game enough as a boy to always know how to keep himself open, how to hold his footing and awareness so that he could slip out and sprint from anyone who thought they were blocking him, an advantage that managed to keep him a step ahead.

The sun beat down on him strongly, droplets of sweat beading down his back as he things progressed further, Makedon running at full speed towards him with the ball tucked under his elbow, Lazar charging after him and calling something out that Damen couldn’t hear. Damen was the closest to the trees, somehow no one currently in his vicinity, and he felt confident in the way he and Makedon locked eyes, Damen’s chin tilting back slightly in a way that said pass it. 

The only people who had a chance at taking Makedon down were himself and maybe his father, but Damen was on his team and Theomedes was nowhere close enough, somewhere in the outfield. Makedon was too strong, too well skilled in these kinds of games and in holding his ground, and anyone who tried to throw him off balance would just end up being thrown back from momentum. 

They were nearly a hundred yards apart, the pounding of Makedon’s feet on grass quickening as he dodged Kastor, and Damen raised his own hands in expectancy as Makedon threw it forward with a slight jump, letting it go and soar over the remaining distance and towards Damen’s outstretched hands. Close, closer-

It was like Damen had blinked and he was there, the nearing ball disappearing from his narrowing vision as it fell right into Laurent’s waiting hands, inches away from Damen with a sly twist of his lips as he turned the instant it landed into his fingers, his shirt having ridden up slightly from the way he’d jumped in front of Damen’s unsuspecting figure and intercepted his catch.

He was breathless, backing away with his fingers tight on the laces before Damen had the chance to say anything, or make sense of how he had appeared in front of him so fast. 

“Catch me,” Laurent said. Or Damen thought he’d said that. He was spinning the second the words left his mouth, running back from the same way he’d come with what might have been a spill of laughter trailing behind him, thought it may have been Damen’s imagination as he abandoned his position by the end zone and took off as fast as he could after Laurent, ignoring everyone else in his way.

He was ridiculously fast, and just a handful of feet out of Damen’s reach, and it was a fraction of a second before Damen managed to grab onto him that the ball was gone again, gliding over three heads and into Theomedes’ waiting hands, the touchdown that could have been his given away like it was the last thing that mattered. 

Laurent turned, ignoring Vannes’ whistle, Lazar’s clap on his shoulder and Egeria’s cheering as he pushed his hands into his back pockets, his expression like two curtains pulled wide apart.

“I’m starting to believe you’re not as athletically able as you think,” he said, eyeing Damen the way Damen had him when they had stood alone by the table. “Or you just really don’t want to tackle me.”

Damen’s blood simmered, rushed, and he took a step forward without thinking, wanting to chase the look in Laurent’s eyes before it was gone, snuffed out like a candle. He licked his lips once, deliberating how it was best to reply with everyone else around, only feet away.

And then feet became inches, their small bubble popped as Makedon walked up to them both, hands rigid at his side as he stopped directly in front of Laurent. They looked at each other.

“You are as duplicitous as every other Veretian,” Makedon said.

“You are as simpleminded as every other Akielon,” Laurent replied.

Makedon gazed at him evenly, squarely. He nodded slowly; once, twice before saying, “have you ever tried griva?” 

As amusing as the prospect was, Damen knew with certainty that griva was the last thing that Laurent - or anyone- needed to be trying. With a step forward and a hand on Laurent’s shoulder he said, “we’re not day drinking.”

Laurent looked at the hand on him before glancing at Makedon. “We’re not?”

“We’re not,” Damen said.

Makedon clapped a hand on Laurent’s other shoulder, strong enough that he would have been jolted had Damen not been holding him, and Damen tried not to gawk at the touch and wonder when comradery had managed to sprout in the past ten seconds. 

“You’re marrying a lightweight,” Makedon said.

“I’m hardly a lightweight,” Damen said. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon.”

“And?” Laurent said.

“You can bring the griva out on my birthday,” Egeria said, waling up to their huddled group with her hands on her hips. “Vannes and Talik baked, dessert is getting cold.”

“Do we trust Vannes’ baking?” Lazar asked.

“You’ll eat my cookies and you’ll love them,” Vannes said, pushing him towards the direction of the table where Pallas followed after him, swinging an arm around Lazar’s shoulder and tugging him into his body as they tried to make their height difference work. Laurent began to walk the same way when Damen tightened his hold on his shoulder, changing his grip so that it was sliding sown Laurent’s side, feeling every bump and groove until his arm was around Laurent’s waist, fingers just above his hipbone as he held Laurent against him.

He felt Laurent stiffen, his body tensing as he craned his neck sideways. “What,” he said, “are you doing?”

Damen smiled down at him, flicking his eyes to Pallas and Lazar’s direction before looking back down at him. “Have you forgotten?” he asked. “We’re inseparably in love.”

Laurent’s hand went to Damen’s arm at his side, fingers closing around his wrist in what was most likely preparation to pull him off. Damen could see his effort to not narrow his eyes. “That doesn’t mean we need to-“

“Oh!” Egeria said loudly, abandoning her plate of sweets and coming towards them quickly, digging her phone out of her pocket. “Yes! That is a lovely shot.”

Laurent turned his gaze to her. “A what?”

She came to stand a few feet away from them, fingers swiping across her screen as she opened up the photo app, raising it in one hand. “I don’t have any pictures of the two of you,” she said, looking at them over the case. “This is perfect.”

“It’s really not that perfect,” Laurent said. His fingers were still gripping Damen’s wrist.

“That’s a great idea mom,” Damen told her, tightening his hold even further so that he could feel every line of their body pressing together, Laurent like a fish out of water trying not to squirm against him. “Smile,” he whispered in his ear.

Damen wasn’t sure what expression Laurent made, how he’d managed to alter his features to seem like he was enjoying this like Damen giddily was, but it was enough to make Egeria’s own face light up as she lifted the phone again, Laurent’s head tilting aside at the last second so that his cheek was on Damen’s chest.

“Perfect,” she said, lowering the phone after and locking the screen. She continued to look down despite the way the screen had gone black, smiling like she could still see something that was no longer there.

“Mom-“

“I’m fine.” She looked up, coming forward and taking their hands. Before either of them could say anything, “come. Eat.”

The day continued on much the same, everyone alternating between eating from the constant stream of food, playing less intensive rounds and walking off in conversation that never seemed to dwindle. They had ended up staying for an early, light dinner as well, moving the large group into the less used dining room inside while Radel cleaned up the yard for them.

Jokaste involved herself the bare minimum, and the more Damen looked at her, the more he found that anything he felt more closely resembled angered resentment rather the pain he had assumed he would feel upon seeing her.

Damen spoke with nearly everyone, his conversations with the guys as easy as it had always been, Kastor even contributing once or twice, more than what Damen had allowed himself to hope for. Talik and Vannes were always enjoyable to be around, the biggest strain of conversation remaining to be his father. Egeria took notice, and more than once verbally smoothed things out, bringing up topics that would naturally pull the two of them in.

More often than not, Damen saw Laurent watching them all interact with an impenetrable look on his face. When he wasn’t talking, eating or watching, he was looking off into the distance in a way that made Damen want to pull him aside and crack him open so he could see the things inside him that he couldn’t understand. 

By the time everyone had left and the day was over it was well passed five o’clock. Despite the early hour Damen felt done for the day, not having much interest in seeking out any other activities for them. Thankfully Laurent seemed to have had the same idea, because he only stopped in the room to grab a change of clothes and one of the books lining the shelf before he turned and made for the door, wordlessly. 

Damen let him go. He didn’t try to intercept him, or to disturb what must have been a need for time alone. He didn’t know exactly what was going through his head, but from what Damen had gathered from the lack of personal calls he’d observed during work and the complete absence of any mention of his impending marriage to anyone that wasn’t on Damen’s side, it was clear that Laurent was to some degree alone. This day - this trip - had to be jarring for him.

By the time Laurent came back the sun was entirely gone, the only source of light in the room coming from the fireplace that Damen had lit. The night was carrying in a chill through the cracked balcony, and the room had been eerily silent without Laurent. He’d wanted the crack and pop of the flames as a distraction.

Damen was showered and under the covers, lying on his side with his head pressed against his arm. He didn’t say anything as Laurent came in; setting his shoes by the door as he walked to the bed and set the clothes he’d been wearing earlier down. Damen didn’t turn to look at him, but he could tell from the lack of sound that he was just standing there, unmoving. 

“Is something wrong?” Damen asked, and his response was the sound of the bathroom door closing. He sighed, turning on to his back.

When Laurent came out, dressed for bed and under the covers, Damen shifted in his spot again. “Good day?” 

He didn’t know why he was trying to converse when Laurent so clearly wasn’t in the mood, but maybe that was it. Laurent had seemed fine, nearly jovial the entire day, and it seemed unfair that he was going to shut Damen out so easily once they were behind closed doors again without so much as a warning.

He listened to the creak of the bed, the bunching of the pillows as Laurent adjusted himself to his liking before saying, “yes.” And then to Damen’s surprise, like in the morning when he flipped things on Damen by saying, “and you?”

“Sure,” Damen said, belatedly. “I like being around my family.”

Laurent made a humming sound, and it was strange to hear his voice without seeing him, the two of them to be on their backs, feet apart, speaking without looking. Strange, but something about it was comfortingly familiar. 

Until Laurent said, “just not your dad?”

It was said casually, easily, and Damen felt the wave of irritability in an instantaneous rush. Of course. This was Laurent; of course he would push down on the one thing Damen hadn’t spoken about, knowing that he preferred not to.

“Sorry,” Damen said, trying for lightness despite the way the blanket tightened between his fingers. “That one wasn’t in the questions folder.”

“You were the one that said we should get to know each other,” Laurent replied. “Why not-“

“Not about that, Laurent.”

“All I’m saying is-“

“Not about that, Laurent,” Damen said louder, too loud for the small distance that separated them.

His voice seemed to have echoed off the marble, and it felt like even the crackling sounds of the fire had paused for a moment as the room became thick with silence. Damen closed his eyes, letting out a long breath as he passed his fingers down his face, rubbing at his skin. 

They should just sleep. There was no chance of his anger dispensing if Laurent continued to badger him, and it was clear that that was all that Laurent intended to do. Damen needed to get used to that, he might as well begin then.

He listened to the wind outside, the breeze that often blew in the room and caused the curtains to sway against the wall, the tassels skidding across the floor. He focused on the flames so that the slow burning of the logs soothed his breathing, waiting for sleep to come.

“I like soap operas,” Laurent said.

It took Damen a few seconds to realize that he had spoken, that that was Laurent’s voice and not his own imagination, a dream beginning to unfold as consciousness faded away.

“And not in the “ha-ha, isn’t that funny, you watch that trash?” kind of way,” he continued, before Damen could question him. “I actually quite enjoy some.”

It was quiet for a few seconds. “What?” Damen said, opening his eyes.

“I took ballet lessons in the sixth grade,” Laurent continued, like Damen hadn’t spoken. “And I keep sugar in my office. Sometimes I add more into my lattes.”

Damen’s nose scrunched at that, hindering him from questioning what Laurent was even talking about.

“I usually have chocolate in my bag, in case I’m having a particularly bad day. Hiding sweets has been a bad habit of mine since I was three years old, actually.” He gave an odd, cut off sound that could have been a laugh, or a clearing of his throat. Whatever it was, it made Damen feel like his own had temporarily closed up. He didn’t say anything, suddenly feeling like he had to hold himself very, very still.

“Um,” Laurent said, both the word and the way the _m_ trailed off very uncharacteristic for him, just as this entire ordeal was. The more his next words were delayed, the more Damen became aware of what he was trying to do, and the obvious difficulty of it on Laurent’s part and the way that Damen could hear the blanket rustling like he was continuously tapping his fingers against it made Damen want to tell him that it was all right, that he didn’t have to go on, but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth work. As it was, he felt like he was holding his breath.

“I really like animals,” Laurent said, in a voice that was small like he wasn’t sure if that was a satisfactory comment, and Damen was hit with the thoughts of him smiling down at Hades’ wagging tail, rubbing him behind the ear, carrying him in his arms as he and Damen walked back to the house after dinner. “Especially horses. When I was seven, I decided that I would use my piggy bank savings on a pony that I would keep in the backyard. I even had a name picked out.”

His voice tailed off again, and Damen found himself smiling softly, despite the way it felt like his heart had made its way up his throat and was lodged there in place, each pound and throb causing him to forcefully swallow the sensation down.

“I’ve been reading for as long as I can remember,” Laurent went on. “I was never great at making friends, even before-“ He paused, cleared his throat. “I was a prickly little thing. I chose to surround myself with books instead.”

Damen needed to speak. He needed to say _something._ “Laurent-“

“My favorite flowers are white roses, because they remind me of my mother.”

He clamped his mouth shut. Laurent let out a breath, and Damen felt it push inside his own chest, the shakiness of it making his own hands feel unsteady. He thought of his own mom, all of the compassion that she had inside her, the way she already looked at Laurent like he was her own. He thought of Laurent’s face when he told him that his mother loved him. He remembered Halvik asking about his parents and Laurent responding, _dead_.

“Laurent,” he said again, louder this time, despite the odd, boyish need he felt to pull the covers over himself and hide from the vulnerability that Laurent was showing him, the way he was exposing himself to Damen in a way that he didn’t seem to with anyone else.

No. He didn’t want to hide himself. He wanted to go to Laurent and hold him while he spoke, to hide him from the rest of the world and the things he was so afraid of. 

“I got my tattoo when I was fifteen years old,” Laurent said, his voice strong and resolute like he wanted Damen to let him say this, or like he needed him to. “I was underage, so I had to get it done underground. It kept getting infected, which is why I nearly had it removed, but I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t fathom waiting until I was eighteen to get it done properly, I wanted to feel close to him as soon as possible.”

Before Damen could ask who _he_ was, Laurent said, “my brother had the exact tattoo in the same spot, on the back of his left shoulder.”

_Brother_. Laurent wasn’t an only child? Damen’s mind stalled, scrambling for every bit of memory that he had of Laurent, any phone call he had transferred, any person he had seen walk into his office. There was the lone picture Laurent had in his desk that he had seen when Laurent had sent him to retrieve a file and he had opened the wrong drawer, but Laurent had been extremely young in that picture, maybe somewhere around eleven. If the man in the picture was Laurent’s brother, someone he loved enough to get the same tattoo as, then Laurent would have surely had a more updated picture with him.

He could hear the sound of Laurent’s breathing as his mind worked, and it was about a second before he spoke that Damen realized he had spoken in the past tense.

“The only reason I didn’t cry in the bathroom when Guion called me a cast iron bitch,” he said, voice barely audible over Damen’s heartbeat. “Is because I haven’t cried since my brother died.”

Damen’s impression of the room seemed to waver, and he had to remind himself that there was a going fire just a few feet away from him, everything going from light to dark in flickering glows.

“I’m sure there are many other things,” Laurent said. “But that’s all I can come up with right now.”

Damen’s lips were parted slightly, his eyes unable to focus on a certain part of the ceiling as he tried to formulate words. Vulnerable would have been too strong of a word to describe how Laurent had sounded. His voice had been stripped down, a fragment of its usual honeyed, self assured tone.

He heard Laurent make the same breathy, cut off sound. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Damen said, looking to Laurent’s direction, despite the fact that he couldn’t see him from the floor. He rubbed his fingers against the blanket covering his chest. Knowing he had to speak and suddenly unsure what to say, “Do you realize how much sugar that is?”

“Oh my God,” Laurent said, his voice still too young for the way he typically held himself. “Is that all you took from that?”

“That’s really unhealthy,” Damen mumbled.

Laurent cleared his throat again, shifted in his spot like he was unable to get comfortable, and each small sound was another factor that made breathing difficult. Damen had been consonantly ranging from mild annoyance to petulance over the fact that Laurent refused to open himself up to him, and now that he had, Damen was struggling with a heavy sense of unworthiness, for what might have been the first time in his life.

“Kastor is my half brother,” Damen heard himself say. It sounded like it was someone else that had spoken. Laurent’s shifting stopped. 

“I don’t really know anything about his mom,” Damen continued, unsure what to say or how to say it. He didn’t- he’d never really talked about this. He’d never needed to. 

“He never spoke about her, and I never asked. I think it was quite a scandal when whatever transpired had happened, but Kastor is nine years older than me. Any outward gossip would have been before I was born.” He let out a long, rough sounding breath, like everything he felt about the matter, pushed down and repressed was leaving him in that exhale. “My mom never mentions it, so I don’t know if-“ He stopped himself. Going down that trail of thought would only anger him, and the last thing he wanted to feel around Laurent at that moment was anger.

Laurent was remaining quiet, not interrupting or showing any indication that he was listening, but Damen didn’t have to look to know that he was. He cleared his own throat.

“My dad is a traditionalist,” he said. And even in that moment, it felt wrong to think that he might be speaking negatively about his father. “Kastor is just as capable as anyone else to run the family business, but it started with my parents. I think he always meant to rectify whatever it was that had happened by having their shared son continue it, I don’t know.” He rubbed at his eyes with his fist, feeling more tired now than he had after hours of sports in the blazing hot sun. 

“I look up to my father,” Damen said. “I hate feeling like I’m disappointing him, but I want to make my own name, and he can’t seem to let it go that I want to be my own person.”

The silence seemed to echo that of the one that Laurent had been met with minutes ago, and Damen wondered if this is how he had felt, waiting for Damen to respond to him. It would be fine if Laurent didn’t respond now, because unlike the fact that Damen had spoken so Laurent wouldn’t feel alone, opening himself up to Laurent didn’t feel so wrong to him. Not like he thought talking about this might.

“My father and I never got along,” Laurent said, after a few seconds had ticked by. “I just wasn’t the kind of son that he could love.”

Damen said, “I can’t imagine you not being the pride of any father.” Candidly, honestly

When Laurent responded there was still a tinge of tenderness in his voice, but Damen thought he might hear a trace of a smile as well. “You never met Auguste.” And he stopped himself just before saying, _would you have let me?_

Damen had the strange impulse to get up and go next to Laurent, or to ask him to get out of the bed and come lie down next to him, on the cold marble floor where they could both see the fire. He wasn’t someone who required other people for comfort, he didn’t even know how to be that person, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling such a strong desire to wrap his arms around someone else. Maybe he hadn’t. Or maybe he had, and just didn’t realize it until then.

“Laurent?”

“Yes?” Laurent said, slowly.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Damen said.

He heard him inhale. Low, like Damen wasn’t meant to hear him. “All right.”

Damen licked his lips, his hands on his chest, fingers just touching. “You are the most beautiful, brilliant person I’ve ever met.”

The fire cracked between them. Damen felt each pop in his bones, the flames heating his skin as he thought of how warm Laurent’s fingers felt, interlaced between his.

“I wrote the first boy I had a crush on a love note in the fifth grade,” Damen said, on a whim. “I thought he liked me too because he was always looking at my direction during lunch, but he was actually looking at Nikandros.’

Damen heard the same rustling as before, and for a moment he thought that Laurent had changed position, like he had lost interest in conversing and was trying to situate comfortably. But then he heard it again, followed by a muffled sound like he was covering his mouth.

“Don’t laugh at that,” Damen said, hoping he wasn’t wrong, and he was met with the sound of Laurent’s hand falling to the mattress so that his laughter slipped out properly, the sound extremely unexpected and entirely too sweet for what Damen was prepared for.

“It’s not funny, I called my mom from the school bathroom,” he said, and was rewarded with another bout of laughter, rolling out of Laurent like he hadn’t meant for it to happen.

“It didn’t stop me from sleeping with him in high school,” Damen added, and as he closed his eyes to the sound of Laurent’s happiness, he wondered what he could do first thing in the morning so he could wake up to it as well.


	10. Chapter 10

Wednesday morning, Laurent woke up with the heavy lidded sensation of puling himself out of a deep sleep, like the thick of pull of sweet honey out of a bowl. He rolled onto his back silently, the sun streaming in through the glass windows warm on his skin as he passed a hand down his face, a soft sigh slipping out as he luxuriated in the feeling of the sheets against him.

Laurent heard a sound, and his hand paused in its movement above his mouth as he froze, eyes snapping open as they moved around the ceiling, a few seconds passing before Laurent remembered where he was, and who he was with.

Laurent pushed himself up on a hand, the events of the previous night slowly filtering in as he shamelessly watched the way Damen slept, his body barely moving as he breathed in and out, face pressed into the pillow with his fingertips inches away from his slightly parted lips.

He didn’t know what he had been thinking last night. To tell Damen those things, to open up like they mattered was ridiculous. Laurent wasn’t someone who spoke about himself like that. He didn’t divulge any personal information, or talk about miniscule, mundane facts that weren’t actually important or beneficial, and he _certainly_ didn’t talk about Auguste. Laurent wasn’t even sure when the last time was that he had spoken his name out loud. 

But that’s exactly what it was. He _hadn’t_ been thinking. Nothing has passed through Laurent’s mind as he opened his mouth and began to speak about himself, nothing but the suddenly desperate need to make Damen feel like Laurent could be normal, like he could try for him, even if he wasn’t sure if that was true. 

Laurent had heard Damen’s anger with him many times before, standing across from him in offices and conference rooms, nearly bursting with everything he wanted to say to his boss and wouldn’t, but last night had been different. Damen’s anger with Laurent had felt personal, decisive, like he had finally reached the understanding that he would never be willing to deal with Laurent, and something about that had terrified him. He was pushing himself to think, to tell Damen of his hobbies and interests before he had even been aware that his mouth was moving.

And everything else, things he’d never told anyone about, things he wouldn’t even let himself think about. Every time he passed a flower shop, saw his tattoo when undressing in front of a mirror or even walked into his office and wondered if his father would have been proud of him if he saw everything Laurent was accomplishing. Those were things that he kept pushed down so deep that even dreams rarely managed to touch, and yet he had given them to Damen like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t natural. It was scary and uncomfortable, vulnerable in a way that Laurent hardly wanted to think about, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Laurent may have been on his own in all this, he may be the one to walk away from their arrangement alone and with nothing, but Damen wouldn’t use any of this against him. Maybe one day he would look back on their short time together and remember Laurent as someone different because of it, rather the shell of a person he had demonstrated himself as for months. Maybe that alone could make all this worth it.

Laurent dropped himself on his back, knowing that Damen didn’t sleep for much longer than him, if not less. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to look at the time, subsequently catching a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors leaning against the opposite wall, his nose pinching at how disheveled he looked.

His eyes flicked back to Damen’s body on the ground, and Laurent groaned to himself quietly as he pushed himself up minutely, already hating himself for the ridiculous lengths he was taking his own nonsense.

He ran his hands through his hair a few times, smoothing the strands back before he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, bringing his fingers down to his cheeks and rubbing, squeezing just a bit to bring color back into them. He heard the first sounds of stirrings from the ground and dropped his hands, rearranging his shirt so it was just barely falling off a shoulder as he lowered himself back down into a carefully arranged sprawl. 

The knocking sounded the instant Laurent’s head touched the pillow, three hasty _thumps_ that jolted Laurent out of his recline. 

“ _Room service for the happy couple_.” 

Laurent pushed himself up in bed rapidly, the movement causing his collar to drop down farther. Damen was still lying with his eyes closed. “Damen,” he whispered.

“ _Damen_ ,” he whispered louder, a gutted sound of frustration leaving him when Damen only groaned in response, showing no indication of moving. When three more knocks sounded, Laurent reached behind him blindly and grabbed the first pillow he touched, throwing it down as hard as he could.

“What the hell-“ Damen grumbled, his voice sleep roughened as the pillow bounced off his head and onto the floor beside him, pushing up on an elbow as he turned to look at Laurent with widened eyes, brows raised in bewilderment. 

“Your mother is at the door,” Laurent whispered as he pointed towards that direction, snapping his fingers and pointing down beside him. “Get over here.”

He watched as Damen looked between Laurent and the door a few times, his eyes still squinted tiredly as he tried to catch up with what was going on. He saw the second it registered, eyes widening as Egeria began knocking again, getting louder with each one. He pushed himself up from his spot as quickly as he could, slipping once on a sheet before he regained his footing.

“Just a second,” Laurent called out while Damen gathered up all of the bedding, tossing it out of sight before he picked up the pillow Laurent had tossed at him and threw it back at Laurent’s head with an unsurprising amount of strength.

“Grow up,” Laurent whispered as he threw it onto the floor, pushing the wisps of hair out of his face.

“Is everything okay in there?” Egeria asked from outside the room.

“Fine,” Laurent called back. “Just-“ he turned to Damen who was standing beside the bed like he didn’t know how to get into one, his eyes flying over all the sheets and blankets. “Get _in_.”

That seemed to snap Damen out of whatever barrier he was stuck behind, pushing the blankets aside and climbing in clumsily, the bed becoming a rumble of sounds and creaks as the two of them pulled the blankets up and situated their bodies, squirming around and trying to arrange themselves so they looked natural. 

“What do I-“ Damen said, glancing at the door as he turned onto his side with a hand hovering awkwardly. 

“Just spoon me,” Laurent whispered back, on his side as well so his back was to Damen’s chest, warmth bursting over his face at the thought of Damen’s warm, bare chest pressing against him. He pushed away the strands of hair that kept falling into his eyes as he felt Damen’s hand touch his hip, moving immediately and resting on his arm before he brought it back to his hip, haphazard and unsure.

“Can you just-” Laurent said in a sharp voice, just as Damen finally wrapped an arm around him and slid himself inwards so the lengths of their bodies were touching, and Laurent was about to turn back and call his mother in when he felt an unmistakable press against his backside.

Laurent felt his stomach clench despite himself, heat crawling up his throat as his entire body jerked, his head whipping back around as he clutched the blankets in his fist, the knocking sound very possibly happening inside his head, rather on the door.

“What is _that_ ,” Laurent whispered between his teeth.

“What?” Damen whispered back, his eyes large in an impatient sort of way. When Laurent narrowed his own eyes he raised a hand, dropping it back down between them in exasperation. “It’s _morning_.”

“Are you-“

“Come in!” Damen called out, bringing an arm back around Laurent and pulling him into his chest, the doorknob jiggling as she began to push it open. Laurent tried shifting around to evade the unavoidable feeling of him, but Damen just held him in place with his other hand. “That’s not helping,” he said, just as the door came open.

They both turned to see Egeria walking in with a wooden tray full of food, dishes rattling as she approached them so that Laurent saw a tea kettle, two cups of coffee, bagels, pastries and a plate of different cheeses. 

“Mom-“

“Oh, you really didn’t have to,” Laurent said, his mind fumbling at the thought of someone making him breakfast and brining it to him on a tray. “We could have made our own food, you shouldn’t have bothered.” 

“Please,” Egeria said, walking across the room and drawing the curtains apart, haloing herself in the light that surrounded her. “You’re family, it’s no bother.”

Laurent felt his lashes flutter as he blinked at the arrangement of food, unable to look away from the steam curling out of the mugs. He felt Damen’s thumb sweep along his hip.

Laurent heard the door opening again before either of them could speak, lifting his head to see Theomedes walking in. Laurent felt the hand against him still, and he consciously reminded himself not to look at Damen. 

“May I join?” he asked, lifting a hand in greeting as he walked to the middle of the room and joined Egeria at her side. Laurent looked down at the blankets that were covering his bare legs, and up at the two of them who were watching Damen and Laurent nonchalantly like this wasn’t an odd occurrence. Theomedes seemed calmer than Laurent had yet to see him, and he hadn’t had enough chances of observing him to know how much of it was a farce.

“Dad,” Damen said, in a tone that sounded like he meant to continue speaking, but wasn’t sure how. They sat like that in silence for a beat before he felt Damen turn his head to the side so that he was looking at his mom instead. “Maybe we could do this later? We just got up.”

“Your mother and I have a proposition for you,” Theomedes said, despite Damen’s comment. “And I happen to think it’s a terrific idea.”

Laurent kept his expression placid, unsure what might have possibly happened to make him suddenly so amiable towards him and Damen, individually and together. He looked at Damen to gage his expression, just as Damen said, flatly, “a proposition.” 

“We were thinking-“

“We want you to get married,” Egeria interrupted, stepping forward slightly. “Here, on Friday.” 

Laurent felt his eyes widen faintly, unable to stop himself from looking at Damen again, then back at them. Damen was saying nothing, and Laurent nearly elbowed him in the side to prompt him into speaking.

“Friday,” Laurent repeated, when it was clear that Damen was going to be useless. 

She was nodding. “I know it’s sudden,” she said. “And the two of you had your own plans, but that way we could all be there for it together.” Clasping her hands together, “I know it’s selfish, but it would really mean a lot to me to see you both get married.”

“I-“ Laurent turned to look at Damen, nudging him under the blanket. _Speak, idiot._

“I don’t know,” Damen said, motioning between the two of them and then upward, towards his parents. “It’s so last minute, and we-“

“Damianos,” she said, looking at him only for a moment before turning her eyes to Laurent. She pushed a curl of hair behind her ear and took another step towards the bed. “Please. I know you might not understand, but this is important to me. Damianos finding someone that deserves him is all I’ve ever wanted, and nothing would make me happier than watching you become part of my family.”

She was looking at him with the large, open eyes that Laurent was so used to seeing elsewhere, and her words caused Laurent’s throat to feel like it was being scratched at from the inside, any semblance of a response temporarily failing him. He moved his eyes to Theomedes, and it was the uncharacteristically warm way he was looking at his wife that had Laurent speak without thinking.

“Okay,” he said.

She raised her head. “Okay?”

“If it means that much to you,” Laurent said, aware of Damen watching him. “Then it’s all right with me, as long as it’s what Damen wants.”

Her hands were clasped again, pressed against her chest. “You can get married in the gardens, just like we did.”

Laurent looked just in time to see Damen’s small smile. “Sure, mom.”

Theomedes kissed the side of her head before rubbing her shoulder. “I have a few things to get done, I’ll be off.”

He left the room with a nod to both of them, Egeria still lingering a few feet away from the bed, beaming at them with so much enthusiasm that Laurent didn’t know where to look, unsure what was expected of him now. He’d never exactly been in this situation.

“All right,” she said, “I’ll leave you two alone.” She touched a hand to her chest before smiling again, taking a few steps away before finally turning and making for the door. Laurent began to let himself relax as her hand reached for the knob, his shoulders loosening as he let out a breath, and it was just as he began to lean his body back that she spun around.

“I almost forgot!” she said, motioning between them. “Are you two going tonight?”

Laurent stared at her blankly, Damen being the one to say, “going?”

She dropped her hand, looking at him like he was being intentionally obtuse. “You know,” she said, tilting her head towards one of the windows. “The yearly carnival.”

Laurent almost dragged his hands down his face in desperation. Family dinners, sports days, carnivals, weddings in gardens. These people thought they lived in a fucking sitcom.

“Damen never mentioned a carnival,” Laurent said, hoping his tone expressed his enthusiasm on the notion.

She frowned, placing her hands on her hips as she turned to Damen. “Damianos,” she said. “You used to go every year, you know it opens up on the boardwalk every November.”

“I was in high school,” Damen said. Unlike Laurent, he _was_ rubbing his face. Laurent watched him for a few seconds, and the set of his shoulders and the way he pinched the spot between his eyes told Laurent that it wasn’t thoughts of a coin toss game that were causing him such distress.

“That sounds great,” Laurent said, turning back to give her the look he knew she wanted. Anything to get her to leave them alone. “We’ll be there.”

She smiled one more time, pressing her fingers to her lips and nodding her head before turning again, finally retreating from the room without turning back.

Damen was disentangled from him the second the door shut, his head hitting the backboard moments after the soft _click_ sounded out. “Oh my God,” he said, his hand over his eyes. 

Laurent sighed. “Damen-“

“Oh my _God_ ,” Damen repeated, his head shaking back and forth. “When my mom finds out about all of this-”

“She’s not going to-“

“She’s going to be crushed,” Damen said, pushing himself up and pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. “You heard her, she-“

“Damen,” Laurent repeated, hesitating with a hand in the air between them, despite the fact that Damen wasn’t even looking at him to notice, too fixated on the frenzy going on in his head.

“And my dad!” Damen said, motioning towards the door and turning his eyes to Laurent, looking crazed and young in a way he never did, always holding himself in confident self assurance. “What the fuck was that? He’s hardly even spoken to me in days, and now he comes in with that?”

Laurent grabbed Damen’s outstretched hand, pushing it down into the bedding and arranging himself so he was properly facing him. “Your mom probably spoke to him about being civil for the rest of our time here,” he said, releasing Damen’s hand and bringing his own into his lap, thinking about how many times he’d noticed Egeria acting as the peacemaker over the last few days. He thought about what Damen had told him last night, unsure how hard he could push, regardless of the fact that it was Damen who had technically put things in the open between them. Carefully he said, “I’m sure she knows how important your relationship is to you.”

Thankfully, Damen seemed too hysteric to focus too much on if Laurent may have overstepped any boundaries. His body was slumped forward now, face in his hands as he let out a rough sound. “My family-” he said, speaking through his fingers. “Fuck. Laurent-”

“They’re not going to find out, Damen,” Laurent said determinedly, pushing himself forward. He felt a spark of something sour in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was at the prospect of his plan falling apart before him, or the way Damen seemed to be reacting to it, his unease so palpable that Laurent was feeling it himself. 

“It’s going to be fine,” he said. He set a hand on Damen’s back to make him look at Laurent and was instantly met with the hard line of stiffness, his muscles locked up in tension. He was moving his hand without thinking about it, too focused on getting Damen out of his head so he would listen to the sound of Laurent’s voice. 

“They won’t find out,” Laurent repeated, moving both hands back and forth along his shoulders, the skin smooth and taut beneath his palms as he rubbed the sides of his biceps in circles. “I promise, it will be fine.”

He wasn’t sure if Damen was really listening, but he nodded his head as Laurent rubbed at his nape, the lock of his muscles softening gradually with each word, the nodding seeming to increase with each assurance. Laurent noticed, continuing to speak.

“It’s just a year,” he said, rubbing at his arms, Damen’s own hands lowering from his face and onto the blanket so that he was looking down at their legs. “”It’s not like we’ll be married forever, we’ll be happily divorced in no time.” 

The words felt thick in his throat, tight like he had had to push them out, but Damen seemed to have come back to himself, his head turned so he was watching the way Laurent’s hand had stilled on him, just his thumb making small circles on his skin. Unlike the way the nerves had just been making him move in slight tremors, he was suddenly very still under Laurent’s touch. 

“It’ll be fine,” Laurent said again, dropping his hands. “You can….” He glanced up at the ceiling and shook his head, lifting a shoulder. “Win me a doll tonight to distract yourself.” The words were absolutely ridiculous, and he hoped they didn’t sound as awkward as they felt. Anything to take Damen’s lingering distress away. 

When Damen said nothing Laurent looked back down, Damen’s eyes still on his despite his wordless state. The silence was beginning to make Laurent uncomfortable so he pushed the blankets aside in a rough gesture, lifting himself out of the bed. 

“Coffee,” he said, rather loudly, turning his back to Damen and making his way towards the tray of food that Egeria had set down on the table by the wall for them. “Sweetened caramel latte?” 

“Ha-ha,” Damen said, but when Laurent looked at him over his shoulder he saw the side of his lips curling upwards, the calm warmth back in his brown eyes. His body was turned so he was facing Laurent; his weight leaned back on a hand. 

Laurent piled a few different croissants onto a plate and balanced it on the crook of his elbow, lifting the two mugs of coffee and walking carefully towards the bed so that Damen took the plate back from him, setting it on the mattress between them and accepting one of the cups form Laurent. 

Laurent sat in his same spot and cradled the mug between both hands, focusing on the steaming liquid as he took his first sip, Damen looking at him over the rim. 

It was quiet between them as they drank, and Laurent was taken back to the silence form the previous night, heavy in the air between each of his confessions. He wondered if Damen was pretending like it hadn’t happened for his sake, or if he was at just as much of a loss as Laurent as to what to do with it.

Laurent lowered the mug to the spot between his legs, looking back at Damen, waiting. A moment passed before Dame lowered his as well, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, a buzzing began to sound out on the other side of the room.

Pressing his lips together, Damen turned to set the mug down on the bedside table behind him, pushing himself out of bed and making his way to the center of the room to bend down and retrieve the cellphone that he had forgotten to move when he had tossed the bedding, thankfully going unseen by Egeria and Theomedes. Laurent made himself continue to drink as he watched Damen read the text, frowning slightly before tipping his head back in realization.

“I forgot that I told Nikandros yesterday that I would help him fix up his car today,” he said, tossing the phone down on the bed by Laurent. “Will you be okay here for a few hours?”

“I think I’ll manage,” Laurent said, setting his mostly empty cup down as well. “I have work I need to catch up on.”

Nodding, Damen linked his fingers behind his back and stretched, letting out a sigh as the muscles popped, dropping his hands at his sides. “All right,” he sad, nodding towards the bathroom door. “I’m gonna shower.”

It was only after Damen had grabbed his clothes and shut the door behind him that Laurent let himself fall back against the bed, breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth, trying to wrap his mind around the day he had ahead of him. He was a man in his mid twenties going to a carnival with the man he had essentially bribed into marrying him, and on top of everything else there was to be stressed over, he had to deal with the fact that a single glance form Damen had become enough to make Laurent’s insides feel like they were caving in.

He had an arm tossed over his head, covering his eyes in an attempt to block out the room and silence his thoughts when he heard the vibrating again, the sensation of it causing the sheets to buzz against him. He dropped his hand and moved it along the sheets blindly, planning to see if Nikandros had changed his mind. If he didn’t need Damen, he was sure there was some work that Damen could help him work through instead.

Still on his back, he lifted the phone to his face and unlocked it at the side, waiting the second for the screen to light up and for Nikandros’ text to appear.

Laurent blinked, squinting his eyes as he pushed himself back into a sitting position, his confusion at unexpectedly seeing a Facebook message temporarily stripping him of the fact that he was looking at someone else’s private messages. He recognized the name, though he wasn’t sure why, or who he could know that would be messaging Damen on a social media platform. 

**Kashel V** : _Hey Damen, haven’t heard from you. Are you free tonight? We could recreate last…_

The message cut off there, and the passcode blocked Laurent from getting in and seeing the rest of the message. He looked down at the phone as his mind worked through the last few days as conversations and names ran in circles. It was a few seconds before the name clicked and Laurent remembered where and how he had heard it. 

The shower came on just as Laurent dropped the phone back where he had gotten it, pulling his knee up to his chest and wrapping an arm around it. He listened to the water run, fingers clenching and unclenching the blanket as he cleared his throat, trying to understand why he suddenly felt so desolate.

The water stopped after a few minutes, and the sudden quiet seemed to snap Laurent out of his trance, reality setting back in like a rockslide.

This wasn’t real. It was a business deal, and nothing more. Everything that was happening - everything that Laurent thought was happening - was only in his mind, a desperate crush that had gotten away from him, amplified by a man who ended up being a better person than Laurent could ever imagine or deserve, and a loving family that being around felt like ripping off an unhealed scab and clenching his teeth as salt was poured on the open wound. 

This was all one sided. Whatever possibilities, whatever hope Laurent had entertained in the back of his mind in his most vulnerable moments would never be a reality. They would get married in two days, go home to Delpha and get back to their regular lives. Damen would find someone else, explain the funny situation he happened to be tied up in and when the year was up, he would sever ties and move on for good. Laurent knew this; he just had to remind himself until it felt real. 

Three more days with Damen was all he had, and then he had to let go.


	11. Chapter 11

That night, Damen found himself pulling up to the boardwalk with an offbeat, bubbling sort of excitement, a pulsing in the pit of his stomach that felt too unfamiliar to be real, like he was a kid going on a date for the first time.

This wasn’t a date. Damen knew that, just as he knew that Laurent wasn’t thinking of it like that, and likely preferred to be back at the house or doing his own thing. He was rather confident that the night was bound to be on the more awkward side, he just didn’t know why the sight of Laurent coming down the stairs when Damen had called up that he was ready to go had made him shift around like Laurent suddenly made him nervous.

The car ride had been silent but short, the beach only a few minutes drive from the house. Damen put his truck in park and kept his hand on the wheel, drumming his fingers on the top as he turned to look at Laurent.

He was looking out the window to his right, his elbow leaned against the door so his mouth was pressed to his fist, though Damen couldn’t see his eyes from the way his head was turned. The lights from the different rides and stands were glowing into the darkness between them, bathing Laurent’s skin in bursts of pink and blue and green. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to move.

“We don’t have to,” Damen said.

Laurent lowered his hand, turning to face him. “What?”

Damen motioned towards a group of girls who had just approached the entrance, showing the man sitting on a stool their tickets. “We can go somewhere else,” he said. “Or just pick up food and go home, say we weren’t in the mood for a night out.”

Laurent looked at the girls as well before leaning his head back on the headrest of his chair, lifting his brow. “Is there a reason in particular you’d like to avoid this?”

A family that were just leaving were passing by their car, one boy with a stick of cotton candy and another with a giant stuffed gorilla, so large that it was swung behind his shoulders. Damen looked at the way the backdrop was playing behind Laurent, trying to merge the fact that he was here with the man that he had been arguing emphatically with over an author’s comma usage just a week ago. 

“I just don’t get the feeling that this is your kind of place,” Damen said.

The tilt of Laurent’s head didn’t change, but his fingers were now linked, thumbs tapping his skin. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “I’ve never been to a carnival.” 

Damen stopped himself before saying something hasty such as _never?_ reminding himself again of last night’s conversation. He didn’t know when Laurent had lost his parents, but his brother had died when he had only been thirteen. Either his parents had died before Auguste, or loosing his brother had taken Laurent’s will to care about frivolous things like festivals and fairs.

“All right,” Damen said, unlocking the car. “Let’s go.”

“No takeout?” Laurent asked.

“No,” Damen said. He didn’t know where the sudden drive inside him had just come from, and he didn’t care enough to question it. Because of whatever cruel twist of fate he had been dealt, Laurent had never had the teenage years where he’d done silly things like this, throwing money on rigged games and overhyped rides. Even if it would mean nothing to Laurent a few days from now, Damen was going to give him one night. “We’re having fun.”

Laurent was still sitting inside the car, even after Damen had made his way around to his side. With more amusement than impatience he took hold of the handle, pulling the door open and waving a hand forward. “Come on.” 

Laurent stepped out of the car and covered Damen’s hand with his, giving the door a push himself so that it shut loudly. He glanced towards the entrance with a flick of his eyes before looking back to Damen, something like a question in his eyes. Damen didn’t know if he was waiting for him to speak or to simply make the first move, so he tilted his head to the side and began to walk, Laurent a few paces to his left.

They walked up to the man accepting tickets, sitting with his weight slumped forward on his knees, one headphone in his ear with the other dangling down his neck. Damen had printed tickets out at home before they left, and the man tore the stub off without even glancing at the dates, handing them back to Damen and waving the next group forward. 

“How much were they?” Laurent asked, reaching into his back pocket as they walked under the sign arching over them, colored lights stringing around the letters and hanging down the sides. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Damen said, swatting at his hand.

“You’re not paying for me.” 

“Why not?”

Laurent arched a brow. “Are we going to argue about gender norms in dating?”

Damen closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head as he breathed out a laugh. “Never a dull moment with you,” he said. He set his hands on Laurent’s shoulders. “You can pay for the next date. Is that better?”

Laurent looked down at the fingers curling along his sleeve, more observatory than anything else. “This isn’t a date,” he said, like one would say, _the sky is blue._

Damen smiled. “Of course not,” he said, dropping his hands. “Should we stand five feet apart and ignore each other too?” 

At Laurent’s dry stare, he gave him a gentle nudge in the shoulder. Laurent frowned, nudging him back after a moment. The simplicity of the exchange was so unexpectedly heartening for Damen that he stepped around Laurent and began to walk, not wanting him to see how dopily he was sure his smile had altered. 

The boardwalk was a large stretch of property than ran down farther than Damen could see from their position, at some points splitting and extending towards different directions. There were countless different booths that spanned down on either side of them, an inconsistent scatter of different games, competitions, food options and small shops. There were different colored flags jutting out the top of each stand, extending far enough and nearly meeting in the middle so that they created a sort of a pathway to walk beneath.

It was a warm night, but there was a breeze coming in from the ocean that wasn’t too far off, the waves carrying the tangy scent of salt in the air making it feel like a long summer night, one of the few things he admittedly missed since moving to Delpha.

Each booth was decked in different bursts of light, wrapping around posts and trickling down from the thin canopies, covering the area surrounding it in warm swirls of hues and tones. The overhung lamps that they passed each held a different colored bulb; some rotated above them so that they cast different shades across their skin, some still and bright.

Damen looked at Laurent as they walked from the corner of his eye, watching the way he looked around every person that passed them; kids young enough to be tugging on a parent’s hand, teenagers walking with their eyes glued to their phones, men and women around their age walking with their arms linked. Parents balanced their children on their backs and shoulders, licking at lollipops the size of their head.

Damen wasn’t sure how he should act around Laurent, knowing that he wouldn’t want to be treated differently but unable to deny to himself that that was how he was regarding him. It was like something had shifted, a door finally wedged open, and the last thing Damen wanted was to accidentally do or say something that would have Laurent shut it back on him, but how was he supposed to control himself when it felt like the sentiment Damen was feeling was starting to reflect back on him, like Laurent was finally beginning to trust him? It was all Damen could do to not link their fingers or wrap an arm around his waist, a childlike impulse that he wasn’t entirely sure when it had begun, but found unable to ignore every time Laurent looked at him like he was on the verge of a smile.

“So,” Laurent said, surprising Damen by being the first one to speak. “Does your family own half of this as well?” 

Damen’s laugh was closemouthed, his fingertips tucked in the crooks of his elbows as he shook his head. “Surprisingly not,” he said. They passed a booth selling different quick made snacks, the smell of butter and grease wafting their way. “But I had friends who worked here in high school. I would come by a lot to help them pass the time.” 

”Did you ever work?” Laurent asked, waving a hand. “For the experience.”

Damen nodded, turning the corner so they left the less intensive games like bottle knockdowns and balloon pops, entering the strip with more hands on options. Different music was coming from each section of the strip, everything blending in together to create one loud, constant thrum in the air. Two girls walked in between them, one of them with a large Mickey Mouse pillow wedged beneath an arm. 

“An auto shop,” he said. “On Isthima. I liked cars.”

“But not enough to make a profession out of it.”

“No.” Damen looked at him. “That’s not what I’m passionate about.”

It was Laurent who looked away first, his eyes bouncing from person to person, booth to booth with an indistinct expression on his face, his hand going up to squeeze at the back of his neck. They stopped walking so a little boy on a tiny, mechanical car could ride passed them, his giggling laughter trailing behind him as Damen watched Laurent’s general uncertainty, a sense of determinacy pushing inside his chest like a caged bird.

“Come on,” Damen said, bumping his elbow against Laurent’s. “I owe you a doll.”

Laurent glanced down at the point of contact, lifting his eyes with a raise of his brow. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all,” Damen said.

“I was entirely joking,” Laurent said. “You were having a panic attack.”

“I was not having a panic attack,” Damen replied. He might have been slightly rattled over the magnitude of what the two of them were doing, but it was nothing he hadn’t already known. It had all just felt much larger in that moment. 

Laurent’s face was slightly pinched, lips twisted like he had spat out a lemon. “I have no use for a doll.”

“No one actually has use for a doll,” Damen said. “It’s so you’ll have a reminder of how much fun we’re having.”

Laurent looked around before saying, “We’re having fun?”

“Stop,” Damen said. “You’re hurting my sensitive ego.”

“I’ve seen you at enough work functions,” Laurent said. “I’m fairy certain your ego is impenetrable.” 

Damen felt a warmth of pleasure like Laurent’s prickling jabs were meant to blanket him, rather irritate him. “Let me win you something,” he said. He could hear the smile through his voice.

A light swung across them so that Laurent’s gaze shifted in a glow, his milky skin iridescent. After a flick of his lashes and a lift of a shoulder he said, “fine.”

Damen’s grin deepened. He motioned down a certain path that he was well familiar with, waiting for Laurent to take a few steps before walking beside him, a little too pleased by the thought of glacial Laurent having a stuffed animal in his home.

“Fish bowl?” Laurent asked, looking at one of the signs hanging off a rope. “No, ring toss. That should be good for your delicate hands.”

“My hands are delicate when it matters,” Damen said, nearly tripping over himself when he saw the faintest dusting of pink on the apples of Laurent’s cheeks, despite the stoic look on his face. He pointed towards his destination, party to distract himself from doing something stupid like brushing the heat on his face with his thumb.

A girl in her late teens was sitting on one of the horizontal rails, hers legs swinging beneath her as she chewed her gum, blowing out a large, pink bubble as they approached. 

The base beside her was thick, the metal tower narrow and high, the letters going up by tens until it reached the hundred mark, a shot of yellow light running up and down the bulbs beside each mark in a rapid, constant succession. The circle beam was nearly waist high, the large mallet resting by the girl’s legs. In the center of the booth in thick, cursive letters it said, _Test Your Strength!_

Laurent was looking at it oddly, the girl staring at them with an unhurried expression as she waited to be spoken to. After a few seconds Laurent turned to him, his brows drawn together. “What is it?”

Damen looked at the sign, the words seemingly self-explanatory to him, and his heart beat strangely at the fact that Laurent had never played something as simple as this, had never even seen it.

“It’s a game of strength,” Damen said. “You hit that beam with the mallet and score a certain amount, depending on how much force is used.” When Laurent stared at him blankly he said, “what?”

“That seems…” he looked back to the beam, not finishing the sentence. 

Damen walked up to the girl, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “I forgot to get tickets at the gate,” he said. “Can I pay here?”

She nodded, her eyes moving to the left as he calculated something in her head, nodding again after a few seconds. “It’s two dollars for one try,” she said, snapping her gum. “Five for three.”

Damen handed her two dollars and accepted the mallet, stepping up to the center of the painted line. He noticed Laurent eyeing the wall of hanging prizes with a distant look and flexed his fingers on the wood, rolling his shoulders back. He and Nikandros had often gone up against each other when they were younger, and he knew from experience that the light of the bulbs changed with every few numbers, starting at white and ending at red. 

It wasn’t as easy as it seemed, though it was easier for Damen than most people who tried, often getting as far as yellow before the momentum ended, slowly falling back down to the bottom. He didn’t reach a perfect hundred every time, but he would be damned if he didn’t get the pleasure of seeing Laurent spend the rest of the night carrying a stuffed doll around. 

“I’m waiting,” Laurent said, leaning back on the bar the worker was sitting on, fingers drumming against the peeling paint. “Your ego is on the line.”

Damen winked at him, enjoying the casualness of it and the way it felt to be able to do it, Laurent’s body a relaxed line as he tilted his head to the side, sleeves now rolled up to his elbows. He turned back to the tall machine, grabbed a hold of the handle with both hands and reared back behind his head, adjusting his grip the way he needed. He thought of the pleasurable burn of letting his strength go, not needing to hold back any of the energy that was buzzing through his veins like electrolytes as he licked his lips, changed his footing, and swung down with most of his force. 

The sound of impact was a loud _clang_. He felt it push back in a vibration to the palms of his hands as he looked up and watched the line of light begin to move up, _tick tick ticking_ as the bulbs went from white, to blue, to green, yellow, orange, a deafening _ding_ sounding out around them as red lit up, the line remaining there before it dropped back down, the entire tower now flashing in bursts of red as the word _winner!_ was spelled out vertically. 

Damen tossed the mallet onto the floor, stretching the fingers at his sides as he turned to the two of them again. Laurent was standing in the same position, his fingers curled around the poll as he stared at Damen.

“Good job,” The girl said, interposingly. Damen turned his gaze to her to see her waving a hand to the wall of prizes, an overly bright light shining on them all. “Winners can pick from any row they want.”

Damen looked back at Laurent, nudging his head to the display. “Pick something.”

Flatly, “you’re being serious.”

“Of course I am,” Damen said. “What kind of fiancé jokes about this?”

“You’re engaged?” she said, swinging her attention between the two of them. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Damen said before Laurent could interject, placing a hand on his arm to feel the way all of Laurent’s attention narrowed to the touch. Looking at Laurent he said, “don’t be shy, sweetheart.”

Laurent turned to the girl. “Do you have anything snakelike?”

Letting out a breath, Damen gave him a not too gentle shove as he stepped up to the wall himself, pushing his hands into his pockets as he pursed his lips, eyes roaming the shelves, each one holding a different grouping. Like an automatic reflex, his mind when back to the tender sound of Laurent’s most private voice. _When I was seven, I decided that I would use my piggy bank savings on a pony that I would keep in the backyard._

He couldn’t see a horse anywhere he looked, not even something resembling one. Pushing down his frustration and opting for the second best thing, he pointed to where his eyes had immediately gravitated. 

“I’ll have the lion,” he said. “Top shelf.”

The girl jumped down from her spot and stepped behind the counter, her shirt riding up as he stretched on her tippy toes, ripping off a tag from its foot and handing it to Damen. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Damen said, seeing that Laurent had already backed up a few steps and was now out of her earshot, looking at Damen’s approaching figure with his eyes on his hands like he was carrying a ticking bomb. 

“Here,” Damen said, uncharacteristically clumsy as he extended the doll to Laurent. “For you.”

Laurent was still looking at the doll, a muscle sliding in his jaw as he shifted his weight on his feet. “I was being serious,” he said. “I don’t need a stuffed doll.”

“I was being serious too,” Damen said. “I wanted to win you something.” 

When Laurent made no move he extended the lion a little further, softening his voice. “Please?”

He didn’t know why it felt so important to him, why it mattered so much that Laurent accepted this. It was just a stuffed animal, after all. Laurent was a grown man, he probably thought the entire thing was ridiculous. 

Maybe he wanted Laurent to have something normal, something that every person had had at some point of their life. Maybe he wanted Laurent to have something to help him remember this when he left Damen, when they were strangers again.

But Laurent wasn’t a stranger. He could never be, not when Damen knew that he liked his mom’s cooking or what looked like when he woke up in the mornings, or that he had gotten a tattoo when he was too young so he would always have his brother with him.

He wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t his boss. He was… Laurent. Someone who challenged him, had trusted him, had been there for Damen when he sensed that Damen had needed it, all without making him feel craven.

Laurent took the doll from him, holding it in both hands and looking down at it like it was a living, breathing thing, turning it over before looking up at Damen.

“Thank you,” he said, partly like a question, partly an admission. 

“Sure,” Damen said, as casually as he could manage, ignoring the tight feeling in his throat that made the act of swallowing an effort as he watched the way Laurent ran a hand down its mane, his own throat rolling as he pressed a thumb into its soft belly. “Let’s go play something together,” he said, tilting his body to the side.

Laurent didn’t argue this time, wrapping an arm around the lion and following Damen’s lead wordlessly. They passed a man juggling what looked like balls of fire, changing speed and height every few seconds, a large crowd gathered around him that alternated between clapping, calling out encouragements and tossing money into an upturned hat.

As they walked through the throng of people, Damen only had eyes for Laurent, the way his own eyes seemed to glow with each new trick the man implemented, the wonder on his face making Damen feel as if he was experiencing the bursts of flames in his own body.

“What about you?” Damen asked as they stepped under a twisting banner, balloons covering every inch of wood. “Any odd jobs?”

“Not really,” he replied.

Damen turned to him. “Is that an offhand no?”

“I tutored in high school,” Laurent said. “But I didn’t charge.”

Damen eyed him as they stopped walking, leaning on a sturdy backdrop that had dried splashes of paint on it, most of the words covered up and rubbed off. Laurent was smart, that would be easy money, especially for someone who didn’t have parents to depend on financially.

“Why?” Damen asked.

The side of Laurent’s lip curved in a limpid smile. “It must have been my kind hearted instincts.”

It was unclear to Damen if his sarcasm was because he didn’t think that of himself, or because he didn’t want others to. Laurent was a thoughtful person; it was just a matter of when he felt like showing that part of himself. He thought of the hours in the office, the way everyone acted in his presence. Those below Laurent may have feared him, they may have gossiped, but when it came down to it, Damen knew they respected him. Laurent expected perfection and efficiency, and no one would have worked for him if they didn’t strive for the same. He was tough and at times unforgiving, but Damen could admit to himself what he couldn’t then, could see the things he had begrudgingly suppressed. When a rivaling publishing house threatened to overrun them, Laurent had taken care of it quickly and efficiently. When the positions of many were being threatened by Laurent’s superior, he had saved their jobs quietly and without a thank you.

“You know,” Damen said, stepping up to a bright blue booth. “It’s a shame I didn’t know how sweet you are when I started working for you. It would have saved me a lot of disgusting coffees I forced myself to drink.”

“You know,” Laurent said, dropping the lion onto the counter and leaning his hip against it. “You’re quite a softie, for such a large brute.”

Damen felt a wellspring of delight as he turned to the teenager manning the booth, his legs crossed on the counter in front of him, tipped back on his chair. A net closed the game in on both sides, the stretch of black fabric extending upwards on a curve that led to the two adjacent basketball hoops, six balls at the bottom within arms reach. 

“How long does a game last?” Damen asked.

The man tapped a clipboard beside him, motioning to them both with a pen. “You have sixty seconds for three dollars,” he said. “Your individual scores will show above your hoop when the time’s up.” 

Damen turned to see if he could gage Laurent’s interest, only to see him pulling three singles out, handing them to the man who stuffed them into a cup. 

“If I win,” Laurent said, slipping the wallet into his back pocket. “I’m getting you that tutu.”

“I’ll wear a tutu anytime you want,” Damen replied, taking a bright orange ball in his hand and spinning it between his palms, waiting for Laurent to follow suit. 

They turned to the man who was holding a stopwatch in his hand, looking down as he nodded his head once, twice before saying, “start.”

Damen didn’t focus on Laurent as he made his first shot, having played ball growing up so many times that the stance was natural for him, aligning his elbow with the hoop as he threw. Seconds blended into one another as they ticked by, the rhythmic sounds of the _swish_ mainly uninterrupted as the two of them made shot after shot, neither of them pausing to check the other’s progress. 

Damen missed some, most of them going through the net smoothly as the balls kept rolling back to them in a continuous loop. He could see most of Laurent’s throws succeeding, Laurent too precise and quick to be anything but near perfect. They touched elbows a few times in their hasty grabs for the balls, and Damen couldn’t help the breathless laughter and kick of his shin when he felt Laurent nudge him particularly hard out of the way, his ball sinking regardless.

“Time,” the man said, clicking a button on the side of the watch and dropping it on the counter. He and Laurent both looked up at the screens to see two large, red zeros flashing at them for a few seconds before the flashing stilled, the screens going black for a moment before the numbers appeared. Damen’s read _35_ , Laurent’s read _33_.

“A valiant effort,” Damen said, picking up one of the balls and tossing it fast at his chest, Laurent catching it with ease.

“Pick your prize,” the man said.

Damen turned to Laurent, grinning at him impishly as he motioned to the wall. He didn’t know what it was about gifting Laurent with things that was putting in him such a good mood, as if he were doing something ridiculous like courting him. 

Laurent seemed to take it in stride, unlike the previous game with his awkward obstinance. He had his palms spread and was looking at the wall of prizes, eyes moving along each row before landing on the man, back in his slouched position with an elbow supported on the backrest of his chair.

“I forfeit our prize,” he said. “Let the next person who loses pick whatever they want.”

The man glanced behind his shoulder, looking at Laurent with odd skepticism. “I don’t really think you can do that.”

“I’m sure worse things have been done here,” he said, picking up his stuffed line and pressing it to his side, turning to Damen. “Let’s go.”

Damen was silent as he turned away from the booth, walking away and along with the stream of people, no new destination in mind. He looked at their feet as they walked aimlessly, trying very hard not to say something that he would likely be embarrassed about later. 

A group of kids ran in front of them and towards a large bench, their faces covered in paint, one of the little girls’ arms covered in temporary tattoos that snaked around her elbows and towards her shoulders. On the other side of the walk by a photo booth stand, a woman pulled a cigarette out of another woman’s mouth and leaned over to kiss her on the lips. 

“I had that same doll myself when I was really young,” Damen admitted, motioning to the lion when Laurent looked at him. “I wasn’t one for stuffed animals, but I would keep it in my bed.”

Laurent looked down at it like it had just appeared in his hands, pushing his finger into one of its eyes. “This?”

Damen nodded, remembering its place by his pillow. “My dad won it for me. My mom kept trying to get me to name it, but I never got the point of that, so I called him Damen.”

Laurent looked up at him with a gradual lift of his eyes, his smile seeming to come from somewhere deep inside him, lips pressed together like he wanted to suppress it. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Be nice,” Damen said. “I’ve told you one of my childhood secrets.”

“No one asked for it,” Laurent said, but he was all breathy laughter and gentle eyes as he looked back at the doll, running a thumb along its cheek in a gesture that might not have been as uncharacteristic as Damen might have initially thought.

“What will you name him?” Damen asked, mainly to see how Laurent would respond.

“Certainly not Damen.”

“Your loss,” Damen said. He could smell the different scents of all the foods being made much stronger with every few steps they took, nearing that portion of the boardwalk the more they walked. He looked over a few heads and saw the familiar yellow letters lighting up over a certain booth, no more than three people standing on the line.

“Follow me,” Damen said changing direction and making for the small stand, recognizing one of the woman there even from a distance.

“Are you going to try and impress me again?” Laurent asked, keeping pace with him easily. “At least give it a few minutes between each time.”

“Nope.” 

He stopped at the end of the line a few inches away from the third person, taking in Laurent’s expression as he stood beside him and read the sign with a frown. “If I remember correctly,” Damen said. “I promised you dessert.”

“And you do make good on your promises,” Laurent said. 

“Have I let you down yet?”

It was hotter the more they inched forward, the heat radiating out of the ovens and off the frying pans, coming onto them at waves. As Damen pulled his collar away from his neck while he waited, the woman standing behind the counter said, “yes?”

“Hi,” Damen said, not bothering to read through the short menu scrawled on a chalkboard behind her, knowing what to get already. “I’ll have the Galaktoboureko.”

She nodded, wiping her hands off on her apron before she accepted his money, slipping it into a makeshift register and handing him back his change, turning to the lady manning the desserts behind her. Laurent turned to him with a bemused look. “That didn’t sound even remotely appealing.”

“Don’t be difficult and trust me,” Damen said, accepting the pastry wrapped in wax paper. “You’ll like this.”

They stepped away from the growing line behind them and towards one of the benches lining the side, sitting beside each other with the lion propped on Laurent’s right. He accepted the square of flaky dough from Damen, turning it around before looking up through his lashes. “Am I getting any description?”

“It’s filled with custard,” Damen said, watching as Laurent ran his index finger along the edge before lifting it to his tongue. “And drenched in lemon and orange syrup.”

Laurent turned it over in his hands again before lifting it to his mouth and taking a large bite, licking the sugar off his lips as he lowered it to his lap and chewed slowly. He swallowed after a few seconds, looking at the missing bite in consideration before he took another bite, handing it to Damen before he had even swallowed. 

Damen bit from the same spot, the thickness from the custard coating his tongue as it mixed in with the tanginess of the lemon, the blend of flavors one of his favorite kind of tastes.

They continued to pass the dessert back and forth, one of Laurent’s legs pulled up to his chest as he took the last bite, crumbling the paper in his hands and tossing it into the garbage can that was one bench over. Damen noticed a dusting of powdered sugar by his mouth and motioned to his own, mirroring the spot Laurent needed to wipe off. When Laurent looked at him quizzically he smiled softly as he reached a hand out, brushing it off in as innocent of a gesture that he could manage.

Laurent touched a hand to the spot, saying nothing as he wiped his hand like there was still something there, looking down at his clean fingers after. Damen shifted the way he was sitting, bringing one of his legs under him so he was with his side pressed to the backrest, his front pointed to Laurent. 

“Well?” Damen asked, resting his cheek on his wrist. “What do you think?” Meaning the night.

“It was a bit stale for my taste,” Laurent replied, in a tone that said he knew what Damen had meant.

Damen grinned. “Are you enjoying?”

Laurent looked around them, his hands on his knees as he watched the woman behind the counter call out an order, a man calling out game names and prizes on a megaphone. A young boy and girl walked ahead of them with their fingers linked, matching shirts that said _I <3 Akielos_ on them.

“Yes,” Laurent said. “I am.”

Above them, the sky was an endless stretch of purple and pink, swirling together like one of the street painters loitering around had extended their hands and swirled the clouds into each other, creating a blend of shades that would always remind Damen of this night, of the way Laurent’s eyes lit up like he had discovered a new universe around them.

For a moment, Damen wondered what it would have been like if this was their life, if this was how they had met. Two people with no ultimatums, no consequences waiting for them at the end of the week, stumbling down the laughter filled path of music and the occasional cry from the rides around them, wandering a carnival because they wanted to, because they chose to. 

“Tell me something,” Damen said. 

Laurent’s blinking stilled. “What?”

“Anything,” Damen said, desperate to feel like he wasn’t the only one experiencing whatever it was that was making him feel years younger. 

Laurent looked at something over Damen’s shoulder, his tongue moving along the inside of his cheek as his eyes lifted like it was following something, staying there before he lifted a shoulder. “I’ve never been on a ferris wheel,” he said.

Damen turned in his spot to follow his gaze, teeth grazing his bottom lip as he looked at the colossal wheel that was a ways off from where they were seated, each circular cart a different color. The beams in the center crossed against one another, alternating in hues so that it was a continual change of vibrancy every moment, a kaleidoscope of colors that glowed off of everyone that stood around it.

“All right,” Damen said, placing his hands on his knees and pushing himself up. Laurent looked up at him without moving from his spot, quirking a brow when Damen motioned upward with his hand. “We’re going on,” he said.

Laurent looked behind his shoulder again for a few seconds, his lips pursed before he shrugged once, grabbing the lion and saying, “all right.”

There was no real line, only three people in front of them, one of the people alone and the other two going in together. The cart had two benches that faced each other, long enough for three people to sit on each, though Damen could likely sit next to only one without it being uncomfortable. 

Damen rubbed his fingers against the heel of his hand as he stepped inside and sat, Laurent sitting on the bench facing him, looking around the interior and the bolts of light that shot through the rods. 

The ferris wheel worked by each cart remaining in one spot for around a minute before it moved up a few feet, stilling for another minute so that the next cart could be filled and the people on higher levels could take in the view from their vantage. Once each cart was filled, the wheel did two prolonged turns before each cart was let off individually, the same way they had gotten on.

“Damen.”

Damen looked up, the jiggling of his knee ceasing when he saw the look on Laurent’s face. “What?”

The look didn’t change, the sound of Damen’s tone likely not helping. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of speaking, Laurent leaned forward and pushed at Damen’s fingers, prompting him to open them so that Damen saw the crescent moon shapes that his nail had dug into his palms. 

“It’s nothing,” Damen said. “I’m just not big on heights.” 

The space between Laurent’s brows creased, a line forming. “Then why are we on a ferris wheel?”

“Because you said you’ve never been on one,” Damen said.

Laurent stared at him, his mouth opening like he was going to speak before he stood, grabbing his doll and turning for the exit. 

“No.” Damen grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down, this time on the same bench beside him, releasing him after a moment. 

“Damen,” Laurent said, turning to him so that their knees were pressed together. “These things go as high as two hundred feet.” 

“I’m aware,” Damen said, just as the cart began to move up for the next couple to get in. He could feel the swaying of it inside his stomach, the thought alone of how high they would eventually go bringing his fingers to a curl around the edge of the bench. 

They sat in silence, the cart moving up on three more levels as Damen looked everywhere in an attempt to refocus his attention before he turned to Laurent, watching him with a careful expression.

“It’s hot,” Damen said. 

He heard a vague squeaking sound, the cart jolting a bit as it began to move again, driving Damen’s eyes to his fingers that were tapping against his knees, his heart beating erratically like it wasn’t sure which direction to go, what the best way was to pound out of his chest and down to the ground that was getting farther and farther away.

“Damen,” Laurent said. “Look at me.”

“I’m fine,” Damen said, but he looked anyway, unable to do anything else when Laurent’s voice was like the pull of a wave.

“I know,” Laurent said. “I just want you at look at me.”

The lights from the sky swept inside their small bubble and glowed between them, shifting the blue of Laurent’s eyes from transparent ice to midnight as he put his hand on the bench between them.

“When did you meet Nikandros?” he asked.

Damen felt like he was trying not so swallow his tongue. “What?”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t-“ Damen looked at the still set of Laurent’s features, the way his shoulders moved back just slightly, like he had taken in a short breath. He tried to copy it. “Ten, I think.”

“Were you fast friends?”

“Yes.” He breathed again, the sound a little stuttered. “How high are we?”

“If it’s not in here, it’s not important,” Laurent said. Damen felt the fabric of his jeans press against his thigh. “I’m throwing the doll out when we get back.”

“No, you’re not,” Damen said.

“No, I’m not,” Laurent replied, smiling crookedly in a way that centered Damen’s focus, soothing his pulse into a flicker.

He was beautiful like a frozen lake, an endless stretch of tranquil blue that glistened like polished glass, moments before the ice shattered. There were times where he seemed too ethereal for Damen’s world, a mystic painting behind ropes and barriers, one that you could look at but not touch. And for all that Damen wanted, for all that he found himself wanting more every day, the fear of overstepping the hazy barrier set in place overrode everything else, festering inside him stronger each time he was allowed a glimpse inside. 

He heard a creaking sound just as he began to reply, his vision wavering at the sound. Sometime between one forced breath and the next, Damen had taken Laurent’s hand in his own.

“Distract me,” Damen said, ignoring the flush on his cheeks. 

Laurent’s eyes didn’t stray from his, his index finger fitting between each bump of Damen’s knuckles. “When I was ten,” he said, “I told my brother I would rather read books than date girls. He told me I would grow into it.”

“And?”

“Turns out I’m gay and just really like books.”

Damen smiled softly, clinging to the thought of a tiny, snappish Laurent before nodding. “What else?”

“Sometimes when you would annoy me,” Laurent said, “if I didn’t need you for anything else, I would give you work that I had already done.”

Damen’s laughter was a muffled sound, bubbling out of him in disbelief as he gave his head a shake. “How did I ever possibly annoy you?” he asked. 

“I’m sure I had a reason.”

“I did everything you asked,” Damen said.

“That was probably it,” Laurent nodded. “You never let me down. It was infuriating.” 

Damen let out a breath, closing his eyes briefly before he felt Laurent’s finger move against him again. “Anything else?”

“I’m pretty sure the people above us are having sex,” Laurent said.

“That sounds like a nice distraction,“ Damen said. “We could try that next.”

Laurent flicked his eyes over Damen’s shoulder, taking a quick glance behind him before refocusing his attention. “Our final round should be done in a few minutes,” he said. “I thought you’d rate yourself a bit higher than that.” 

Damen smiled. “We could always go again.”

“The haunted house doesn’t appeal to you more?” Laurent asked. “That sounds a little more thrilling.” 

“No haunted house here,” Damen said. “Behind the bathrooms?”

“Carousel?” Laurent suggested.

Blinking, “how would that even work?”

“Someone’s unimaginative,” Laurent said, his elbow now propped on the backrest of their bench. Damen looked at him, the easy set of his limbs and soft lines of his face making him feel like something had just snapped into place, a dart hitting the bullseye, and it was instinct that had Damen tugging on Laurent’s hand, the spread of Laurent’s lips making his chest feel like a balloon blown too tight, the laughter leaving him in helpless breaths.

As they continued to circle down in a slow, steady trek with lights glowing around them like the glimmer of neon candles, Damen was aware of only two things. One, he was having more fun with Laurent than he ever would have imagined. Two, he hadn’t felt this happy in months.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm in the middle of the last chapter so it should be double updates from now on woop woooooooop

The next morning, Laurent had the experience of waking up into what he had come to understand as a living, breathing state of a paradox.

Laurent was never one for drowsy, lazy mornings in bed, but he hadn’t even had a second to adjust to his surroundings or the light streaming in from the windows before he remembered how absolutely fucked he was. 

He had practically thrown himself out of bed the moment he opened his eyes, that small, soft lion beside him being the first thing he saw, the bigger one on the ground the second. He had grabbed the first clothes within reach and dressed quickly in the bathroom, out the door and down the steps to the kitchen within minutes. 

Hades had bounded into the kitchen the moment Laurent had stepped foot on the marble, his tag chiming against his collar as he ran in circles, tongue lolling in enthusiasm before he threw himself at Laurent, pawing at his legs, and the joy he seemed to have carried in with him was enough to lift the corners of Laurent’s mouth and have him briefly forget his situation.

He wasn’t ready to face Damen yet, and he didn’t know when he would be. Laurent’s resolution of treating this as it was, of keeping his head on straight and not deluding himself into misguided dreaming had worked exceptionally well, up until he had seen Damen again.

It was awful, really. Never in Laurent’s life had he craved something so badly, only to be pained by it at the same time. The thought of distance from Damen was unbearable, but to be with him was just as excruciating, because he was never truly _with_ him. To have Damen’s focus on him, to prompt his gentle smiles and to feel their fingers link was a sensation like drowning and being saved, because it made Laurent feel like he could breathe for the first time in years, all while suffocating him with the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before Damen met someone who made him feel the way he made Laurent feel.

Everything about the previous night had been what Laurent had learned to expect a night with Damen would be like. Simple, sweet, vulnerable. Damen was charismatic and playful, and despite his larger than life persona, he had his own insecurities and fears which made Laurent feel more human and just a little less tenuous, a fumbling mask of hidden reservations. 

Laurent had told Damen before that he was simple, but what he hadn’t said was that it was in the greatest way possible, bare to the eye with thrumming fervency underneath. Damen was a match waiting to be struck, a blank canvas waiting to be filled with color and life, and that was why he had been a problem from the first time Laurent had seen him and would be until the last. Damen made Laurent feel the way he hadn’t felt in years, like he could be someone again, like he could take reach into the dwindling hues inside Laurent and paint his world in streaks of white and gold. 

Laurent had felt young and carefree, adjectives he hadn’t associated with himself since he had been a little boy, gossiping with his mother when she had been sick in bed and wanted to distract him with neighborhood gossip, things the two of them could poke fun at. 

That had been one of the things circulating through Laurent’s head as they walked through the stands, under fluttering flags and twinkling lights, other than how he wanted this night to go on until they had to leave Akielos. What it would be like to introduce Hennike to someone like Damen, how his mom would have reacted to Laurent finding someone as selflessly sweet as her eldest son. 

The other thing he’d thought of, the other ceaseless thing, was how it would have felt to have Auguste there with them.

That thought alone had stuck with him, the unignorable knowledge of how the two would have gotten along, would have likely bonded over their similarities and cared for each other like Laurent cared for them. Laurent had had a fleeting vision of being boxed out or left in the dust, but that had quickly been reduced by the feeling of Damen grabbing Laurent’s hand and pulling him back, ignoring his own heart stopping fear so he could give Laurent something innocent that he had never experienced before.

It was all helpless, and entirely out of Laurent’s control. That was what Laurent told himself as he sat on a barstool with Hades dozing on his lap and a mug of coffee between his palms, looking out the wide window as the sun rose over the lake. 

None of this was Laurent’s doing, that was how he would ration this with himself. There was no one on earth who could spend this much time with Damen and bare the weight of his look, the compassion in his eyes and not fall hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him.

Laurent could feel Hades stirring against him, his nose rubbing against his stomach as he began to wiggle against him. He set down his cup of coffee so it wouldn’t get knocked out of his hands and spill, brining his fingers beneath Hades’ chin and rubbing, smiling as Hades’ began to bark up at him.

“We should take him home with us.”

Laurent nearly jolted out of his skin, just stopping himself from reacting at the sudden sound of his voice, wrapping an arm around Hades so he wouldn’t fall as he spun the stool around. 

Damen was standing at the foot of his steps with a shoulder leaned on the wall, already dressed in jeans and a thin shirt. He had a sweatshirt on top, the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, crossed against his chest. He was smiling. 

“Sure,” Laurent said, giving Hades a slight push off so he hopped onto the floor and ran up to Damen, scraping at his ankles before jumping around him and up the stairs. He straightened himself in his chair, ignoring the cord that word had struck inside him.

“I’m serious,” Damen said, walking into the kitchen and winding around the counter, leaning his elbows on the surface so he and Laurent were facing each other. “You’re the only one he seems to like.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Laurent said.

“It must be all that natural charm,” Damen said, propping his chin on his fist. His hair was a mess of tousled curls like he hadn’t even run a hand through it since waking up, and the thought of someone else seeing him like this made Laurent’s heart pang against his ribcage.

When Laurent said nothing he tapped his palm against the counter, pushing himself back. “Your new phone is ready,” Damen said, reaching for a ring of keys on a small shelf above the sink. “I’m going into Isthima to pick it up. Do you want to come?”

“Oh, yes,” Laurent said, reaching for his mug and taking it to the sink. He couldn’t believe how little he’d actually thought of work those past few days, but the idea of having his contacts back in possession and the distraction they would lend him aided in settling some of his frenzy. 

They walked outside in comfortable silence, down the same narrow bridge that led from their property to the rode, this time going around Damen’s truck and towards the direction of the docks. Both the café Vannes and Egeria had taken him to and the carnival had been in Ios, and Laurent hadn’t needed to go back to Isthima since the day they’d arrived. Damen said nothing as they approached the boat, not looking at Laurent in any particular way as he untethered it and jumped in, Laurent going in after.

The ride was as short as he remembered, his fingers clutched under his seat as he ignored the way they cut through the water like it was nothing, an endless stretch of unpredictable blue. He watched the way Damen navigated them, the look of his effortless confidence redirecting the anxiety he could feel festering below the surface of his placated features.

By the time they had arrived Damen’s windswept hair was even more of a mess, his eyes calm and bright like the cloudless sky above them as he jumped onto the short boardwalk, crouching down to one of the poles and pulling the rope out.

_Talk_ , Laurent told himself. _You were fine yesterday. Don’t waste your last days with him being a mute idiot._ But as Damen stretched himself up and turned to Laurent with a gesture to the ladder, all he did was turn away. 

Laurent climbed up first, happy to leave the water behind them as he reached the top, stretching his arms out at his sides while Damen came up behind him. He looked around the row of shops opening up before them for a few seconds before nodding his head to one side, beginning down the path with a familiarity that spoke of many days spent strolling around this small town. His hands were loose fists in his sweatshirt pockets, his strides long and easy as he smiled at the people who occasionally raised a hand in their direction.

“You seem to know everyone here,” Laurent noted as they turned a corner, walking down the narrow sidewalk together. 

“The island is small,” Damen said. “I grew up around these people.”

Laurent touched two fingers to his jaw, rubbing at the skin as they stopped in front of the third store down the line, nodding his head. “It must be nice, being able to come home.”

Damen pulled the door open, the chiming of the bells drowning out Laurent’s quiet words so that Damen didn’t hear him, stepping aside so Laurent could walk in first, closing the door behind them.

“Damen, hey,” a middle-aged man said, setting the magazine he had been reading aside and leaning forward in his chair. “How are you?”

“Good,” Damen said, walking towards him. “Do you have that phone I ordered?”

Laurent turned away and focused on the walls around them, the store seeming to be some general shop that held an array of different things, none of the categories particularly relating to the next. He heard the sound of a register popping open and a few beeps before Damen was at his side again, handing him a brand new phone, already out of its box.

“I had your number and all the old contacts installed,” he said, pulling a plastic bag out of a pile and turning towards a snack rack. “Everything should be in there.”

Laurent watched with his thumb hovering over the lock as Damen grabbed a few bags of some type of organic chips, dropping in a tin of granola after. “How old are you?” 

“Just wait,” Damen said as he tied the bag, apparently having paid for them along with the phone. “I’m gong to make you healthy when we get back home.”

Laurent turned his eyes back down to the phone, focusing his attention on the names on his screen and following Damen out so he wouldn’t do something rash like demand he stop speaking.

“Oh, fuck,” Laurent said, seeing the emails and voicemails that wouldn’t stop popping up the moment he swiped in, his phone letting out a _ping_ with each one. “I have thirty seven messages.” He pressed a hand to his forehead as they stepped back on to the road, fantasizing about dropping Touars. “Is there internet anywhere in this Godforsaken town?”

Damen motioned behind Laurent with a poorly concealed grin. “I sure missed this,” he said, tilting his chin towards the same direction. “There’s computer access in that store, you pay for every five minutes.”

The store was small and bright with just a few people inside, the glass windows wide so that you could see out onto the street and all the shops within view, cars passing by every few seconds. Laurent handed the woman behind the counter all the quarters he had and took the card she handed him, walking with Damen towards one of the computers lining the wall. 

“Type this code in,” Damen said, one of his palms braced by the mouse so he was hunched over Laurent, his chin grazing the top of his head so he could look at the screen as well. “Wi-Fi should connect as soon as you’re logged in.”

Laurent typed the six-digit code in quickly, the screen remaining still for a moment before the box disappeared, the home screen popping up. Laurent turned to Damen to ask which browser was the quickest, only to see him looking out the window with pursed lips. He lifted a hand before looking down at Laurent. 

“I’ll be back,” Damen said, pushing himself up and walking out the store before Laurent could reply. He turned back to the computer and clicked on the first browser he noticed, typing his email into the search engine and clicking his tongue as he waited. The internet was slow, the images stalling every few seconds as Laurent tapped his fingers on the counter, his phone lighting up beside him again.

Laurent leaned back in his chair as he waited for his password to process, eyes roaming up as they moved around absently, the clusters of people on the street a distraction from the frozen screen. He saw a woman with two little girls holding each of her hands, her phone pressed between her shoulder and cheek. A man drinking from his water bottle as he walked across the street alone, sunglasses perched on the top of his head. Damen leaning against a store window, a girl standing across from him with her fingers wrung together.

Her pale hair was away from her face in a long braid, the blue of her eyes matching the patterns on her sundress. She didn’t move much as she spoke, her animation showing more through her smiles and slight shifts, almost reserved in its nature. Damen nodded along to whatever it was she was saying, miming something with his hands before replying. 

The computer let out a high-pitched sound, notifying him that his emails were finally accessed. He lowered his eyes and clicked onto the first one he saw, the skin of his palm burning between his nails. 

“Are you managing all right over there?” The woman behind the counter asked, a few minutes later.

“Fine, thank you,” Laurent said as he finished off his response, clicking send and opening the next. Damen was laughing in earnest by then.

“Damen is a very sweet man,” she said, because no one in Akielos knew how to take a cue. “You’re both lucky.”

Laurent exited out of the page, the door swinging open just as he folded the paper he’d written everything down on. He nodded at the woman as he stood up form his chair, Damen coming to stand beside him.

“Your fiancé and I were just chatting,” she said, clasping her fingers on top of her book. “I was telling him how happy you’ll both be.”

Damen smiled at her, turning his gaze to Laurent after with a look that told him they’d been spending far too much time together, his acting better than he’d ever seen it. “I think so too.” 

Laurent slipped the paper into his back pocket, not allowing himself to linger too long in fear that he’d return that look with the sincerity he’d learned form Damen himself. “I’m ready to go.”

“All right,” he said, turning to the shop owner again. “It was nice seeing you.”

“Bye, dear,” she said, lifting her fingers. “Best wishes to you both.”

“Thank you,” Laurent said, yanking the door open and pulling in air through his mouth, Damen stepping out beside him.

“Did you get everything done that you needed?” Damen asked, turning to look at Laurent as they walked aimlessly, the direction of the docks in that same general direction, the water in view.

“Yes,” Laurent said, his eyes on the blue sky above him, wondering if it would be odd to plunge back into Delpha’s sporadic climate, a drastic difference from the summery atmosphere he was growing used to each morning. “You’re not going to have a second to breathe when we get back.”

Damen bumped their elbows together, a line of static running down Laurent’s chest and into each of his fingertips. “Technically, we’re equals when it comes to our workload now.”

Laurent mulled that over as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip, his head tilted back in resignation. “I’m going to need a new assistant.”

“Will they get the same initiation process as me?” He could hear the smile in Damen’s voice.

“Initiation would suggest an eventual ending,” Laurent said. “My stances are concrete.”

“Please,” Damen said. “Look at all we’ve been through. You’ll be a peach.” 

Laurent let out a sound that could have been disbelief, but just as well may have been laughter. Whatever it was, it was quickly diminished by the mental image of someone else making Damen smile.

“So,” Laurent said, listening to the gravel that crunched under their shoes. “What’s it like, seeing so many people from your childhood again?”

“Hm?” Damen hummed as he turned to face him, nodding his head after a moment’s pause. “Oh.” He rubbed at his shoulder before dropping his hand at his side. “Nice, I guess. I saw Lykaios who I was friendly with in school, but I-“

“Oh, there you two are!” Someone said as they rounded a corner, Laurent looking forward to see Vannes and Egeria walking their way. “We’ve been walking around for twenty minutes looking for the two of you.”

“We’re going to have to steal him away,” Vannes said, taking a hold of Laurent’s arm as they approached them, glancing at Damen.

“Oh, I-“

“We won’t be too long,” Egeria said, taking his other arm and linking theirs together, looking at her son. “You can wait for him in the boat, we’ll get back how we came later.”

Laurent looked over his shoulder for help, but Damen just raised a hand in their direction, his smile a crooked tilt as he took a step back. “Have fun with him,” he said, blowing a kiss before he turned around and walked in the direction they had originally been heading, Vannes and Egeria pulling him down a separate path.

It was a few minutes later that they were walking into a small store, Vannes saying something in quick Vaskian to the young girl at the counter before leading them into a backroom, the door closing behind them.

“I work here,” she said, tossing her purse down onto one of the reclining couches by the wall. “This room is mine to use as I please.”

There was a small alcove closed in by a pale curtain, a glass coffee table in the center, littered in magazines and smaller boxes. Fabrics were stacked on one of the chairs and on a chest by the door; a floor to ceiling mirror leaned on the wall. “What exactly are we doing?” Laurent asked, looking between the two of them.

Egeria pulled one of the boxes up off the floor and set it on a wooden chest by the wall, opening its flap and rifling through the contents. “This was all sprung on you both so last minute,” she said, pulling out something thick and square, wrapped in a plastic covering. “I knew you wouldn’t be prepared.”

Slowly, “I’m not following.”

She pulled out another pack, holding them out as she walked towards him. “A suit,” she said. “For your wedding.”

His wedding. The wedding that would take place in one day with what would probably be half of Akielos in attendance, there to watch him get married to a man who was the kind of person who’d probably lived his life expecting to be married some day, in a boisterous occasion with his friends and family and someone he loved.

“I,” Laurent said, looking down at the parcels in his hands.

“Don’t worry about the sizing,” Vannes said, misunderstanding his silence. “I work with a great designer. We guessed your measurements, but I can easily tailor them if the fit isn’t right. He’s quite big in Vere, actually. Charls. Do you know his work?”

“No.” Laurent couldn’t look up from the packages. 

“We’ll be waiting here,” Egeria said, sitting on one of the chairs with her legs crossed. “There are shoes in the box as well. Take your time.”

It was only after Laurent was behind the curtain that he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, breathing in deeply. It was fine, everything was fine. Of course he would need a suit, he couldn’t get married in jeans, they would have done this for anyone in his position.

Carefully, he pulled his clothing off and set it down on a folding chair, poking a hole into the plastic and tearing it open from there, dropping it onto the floor. He did the same to the second and pulled out all of the contents, unfolding all the material and shaking it out.

The shirt was white and pressed, classic with its silk lining and small buttons, the long tie sleek and strong in contrast. The suit itself was a dark blue color, so deep that it was almost black, standing out against his skin in a way that he knew Damen would like. 

Laurent pushed the curtain aside after slipping the shoes on, needing their voices to distract him from the one in his head, deep and husky and warm like the rest of him. He pushed a hand through his hair and stepped out into the room, wordless as Vannes set her phone down, Egeria’s hand light on her throat.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Vannes said.

Laurent smiled at her thinly, just as Egeria stood up form the couch and approached him with cautious steps. “You are,” she said, touching his shoulder. “My son is lucky.”

Laurent looked down at the front of his shirt, running his fingers along the lapels of his jacket. “I’m marrying your son,” he said. “I’m the lucky one.”

She touched her knuckles to the side of his face, and it was as light and undemanding as she would with Damen, the image of her holding his face when they’d landed and he’d gone to her vivid in Laurent’s mind. He held himself in place, torn between the impulse to recoil or to lean into the gesture like he would when he was eleven. 

“This looks good,” she said, removing her hand and taking a step back, running her palms down the sides of his arms and tugging on the material just slightly. “Vannes, what do you think?”

They spent the next few minutes turning him this way and that, tightening their hold on one part of cloth with pursed lips and tilted heads, murmuring to each other as they turned him again. The suit was as good as a fit as anything he’d ever tried on in a store, but the two of them seemed intent on smoothing out any kinks that they could find, and he didn’t have it in him to complain when giving them what they wanted on such mundane things seemed to work out best.

“So,” Vannes said, her nails tickling the nape of his neck as she refolded his collar. “Are you nervous?” 

Nerves weren’t quite what Laurent could feel buzzing inside him, bubbling in the pit of his stomach and making each swallow feel like more of an effort. “No.” 

“Is Damen?”

He thought of the ease with which Damen had carried himself earlier. “No.”

“Of course he’s not,” Egeria said, puling one of the pins out. “He’s marrying the man he loves.”

Laurent set his eyes on the clock on the opposite wall, adjusting his footing. “What time is the ceremony?”

“Six,” she said. “I’ve arranged everything, don’t worry about any of that. The caterers will arrive in the morning and someone will come to set up the garden, it will be beautiful.”

“You really don’t have to go to any large expenses,” Laurent said. “We don’t need-“

“Nonsense.” She held up a colored fabric by his tie and squinted for a moment, throwing it onto the table after. “I want you both to have the best.”

“Damen and I were going to do something small anyway. It’s not about the party,” he tried. “We just -“ His fingers touched the inside of his palm. “I just want to be with him.”

Egeria smiled at him, and he noticed for the first time that she had the same dimple as Damen, deep in her left cheek. “You will.”

“Speaking of the best,” Vannes said, thankfully interjecting. “Have you decided where you’ll be going for your honeymoon?”

Back to his apartment where he could pretend this week never happened. “We haven’t.” 

“They should go to the Summer Palace,” Egeria said, turning to her.

“Oh, yes,” Vannes pointed to her enthusiastically before turning to Laurent, spreading her hands. “It’s this amazing hotel in Lentos, you’ll love it.” 

Give them what they wanted. Agree to their excitement and this would be over. ”I’ll see what Damen thinks.”

“Please,” Vannes said, waving a hand and walking towards one of the windows, pulling it open so a breeze came in. “Damen would buy you the island if you asked for it.”

Laurent looked at his shoes, wondering if they could get what looked like a stain off in time. “No.”

“Believe me,” Egeria said, toying with one of the buttons on his shirt. “He’s dated a lot over the years, some serious and some not. I’ve met them all, and he isn’t with you the way he’s ever been with anyone else.”

“How do you figure?” Laurent asked, humoring her.

She looked up at him as she withdrew her hand, expression stagnant. “Damen has always been big on grand romantic gesture, but I know him in ways he isn’t in touch with himself enough to know. His affections have always been genuine, but aimless.” She had her fingers clasped in her hand, spinning her wedding band around. ”He looks at you like he’s found somewhere he can finally place all the compassion he has inside him.”

His lips were dry, his throat tight like it was stuffed with the gravel they had walked on earlier, scraping at his lungs. Egeria smiled at him wordlessly and walked around his still figure, smoothing a hand across the fabric of his jacket. “I was thinking,” she said. “That we could come visit you both for the holidays this year, if you’d like.”

“I’d love to see Delpha,” Vannes said, now seated on the couch with her hands wrapped around her knees.

“That would be nice.” Laurent said. It was what she wanted to hear. He craned his neck back so he could look at her work, her brows furrowed in concentration as she pressed her thumb along the line of his shoulder blade.

“Or maybe,” he said, aware that he was still talking but not knowing how to stop. “We could come back here to be with everyone.”

Her fingers stilled on his arm as she gazed up at him, their faces close. “I would like that,” she said, her voice soft. “I would like that very much.”

It was the ringing of Vannes’ phone that made Laurent look away, the shrill sound like an anchor dropping, pulling him out of a deep reverie that he had no place to be in. She scrambled to grab it off the table and pressed it to her ear, holding a finger up to the two of them before walking out of the room hastily, the sound of her voice drowning out by the shut door. 

“All right,” Egeria said, letting out a breath as she turned him around, smoothing a hand down his flank as she gave him one last inspection. “There’s just one more thing.”

She walked over to her purse and opened a zipper, pulling out a box that was small enough that it could be hidden between her hands, stashed away in a pocket. He said nothing as she cracked it open, gazing down at its contents in belated silence before pulling it out, running a thumb along the top as she approached him again.

“This has been in my family for over a hundred and fifty years,” she said, opening her hand to reveal a small brooch made of metal, its edges curved and twisting so that it resembled something like laurels, through Laurent wasn’t entirely sure what to call it. There were two red gems set in the middle, matched in size and closed in by winding gold, entwined fingers holding two hearts together. 

“It’s beautiful,” Laurent said as he looked up, his head already turning. “But I-“

“Let me finish,” she said, fastening to the pin to his jacket and resting her hand there after, her fingers spanned against him as she looked up. 

“My great grandfather gave this to my great grandmother when they got married,” she said. “She was Veretian, you know. They were quite a scandal.” The lines around her eyes creased as she smiled, an arm wrapped around her waist. “Back then, everyone’s approval mattered, and the odds weren’t in their favor. It almost broke them up.”

“How did they stay together, then?” Laurent asked. He didn’t feel his hand move, the sharp bite of metal into his finger the only indication.

“She was a lot like you,” Egeria said, tilting her head to the side. “Tough. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Her eyes were wistful as she stepped around him, their skin touching for a moment on the brooch before she pulled back. “She was good for him. Balanced him.”

“I’d always envisioned having Damen wear this on his wedding day,” she continued. “But I want you to wear it.”

“No,” Laurent said, when he found his voice, though it didn’t sound much like his own. “No, I-“

“Please,” Egeria said, taking his fingers in her own and making his larger hands feel very small. Her skin was warm, eyes wide and earnest in a way that made Laurent feel like every inhale threatened to burst him open so that everything false and manipulative inside him would seep out before her. 

“I know you don’t know me all that well yet,” she said, each of the rings she wore pressing into him, the pressure a welcome sensation that ensured that he could feel something. “But I’ve watched Damen carry his own pain in silence for so long, and you don’t understand what it’s like for a mother to watch people take advantage of your child’s heart. What you’ve done for him,” she said, thumbs moving along his own. “What you give him just by loving him back, there’s nothing else I want, other than for you to one day open your heart to me as a son.”

Laurent was a book editor, he made a living out of reading lines upon lines on different descriptions of sensation, the millions of ways people described how a feeling could be tangible, something to take physical hold of you and cement itself inside of you. If he were an author himself, he would write about how looking into Egeria’s eyes and listening to her words made him feel like his past had sprouted fingers and reached inside him, pulling his heart out of his chest and replacing it with a stone.

But Laurent wasn’t an author. He was just a man with too much longing in his heart to be reciprocated and too much taint inside him to be loved. 

”I can’t,” Laurent said. He was shaking his head. “I can’t.”

_I can’t lose him._

_I can’t do this._


	13. Chapter 13

The boat moved rhythmically under Damen’s back, swaying left and right as the water lapped against the boardwalk, his neck wedged in comfortably on his wrists that were crossed behind his head. The breeze was light, the sun warming any exposed part of his skin, bright without being bothersome.

The serenity of the moment was interrupted by the hasty sound of footsteps. Damen opened one eye and saw Laurent coming down the path with his hands at his sides, Egeria and Vannes nowhere in sight as Laurent turned around and made for the first lunge, climbing down the ladder in quick steps like he had practiced the monotonous movements. 

“All right.” Damen jumped up, stretching his arms above his head as Laurent stepped towards him, looking at nowhere in particular as he leaned his weight forward and jumped into the boat, more eager to get on than Damen had yet to see. “Let me just untether this and we’ll be on our way.”

Damen stepped over to the edge and leaned his body out, his stomach hovering over the side as he reached for the line of rope that was looped around one of the wooden rods, securing the boat in place. His fingers touched the edge, and it was just as he fixed his grip that the boat roared to life, jolting forward so rapidly that Damen nearly fell out.

“What-“ Damen yelped, pushing himself up as quickly as he could and spinning around, his eyes widening considerably when he saw Laurent, stone faced, driving the boat away from the dock and into the open water. 

“What the hell?” Damen said, holding the side as he moved himself forward and beside Laurent, trying to come up with the best way to get Laurent away from the wheel and take control without hurting him and throwing them further off course, all while trying to understand what the fuck was going on.

Laurent said nothing, his hands in a white-knuckle grip as he turned, incorrectly, pivoting them haphazardly so that Damen’s stomach felt like it swooped inside him, water splashing against their faces.

“Talk to me,” Damen said, slamming a hand down beside him and willing him to speak, to show a reaction, to do _something_. The rushing water around them had more life than his still blue eyes, and each attempt to move them further only lurched them more hectically. You couldn’t just hop on a boat and attempt to figure it out as you went, and Damen could practically feel Laurent’s anxiety from their surroundings on top of whatever else had driven him forward like this.

“What’s going on?” Damen said desperately, practically needing to scream over the noise the boat was making, water spraying against them again. “ _Laurent_.”

“I _forgot_ ,” Laurent yelled back.

“Forgot what?” Damen said, feeling like his heart slammed to the side as they turned, Laurent’s fingers so tight that he thought the wheel might disintegrate in his grip.

“ _Everything_ ,” Laurent said, far louder than the wind required him to. “I forgot what it’s like to have a family, okay? I’ve been alone since I was a child and I forgot what it felt like to have people love you, to have them call you or cook your favorite meals, or-“ He made a rapid turn to the right, swallowing. “Or call you their son, and invite you over for the holidays and make you feel like you mean something to them.”

They accelerated in speed, the boat lifting up for a moment before splashing back down like a rock skidding across a lake, each jostle a physical thing in Damen’s throat. Laurent looked around them and up at the sky, Damen’s feet slipping out before he caught himself. 

“And you have that here,” Laurent continued, looking everywhere but at Damen. ”You have people that care, that want to see you succeed, and I’m just screwing things up for you.”

“You’re not screwing anything up for me,” Damen said, his fingers curled around the glass windshield of the boat, firm like the vise grip inside his chest. “I agreed to this, remember? I want this.”

“You have a life here, Damen,” Laurent said, hitting the palm of his hand against the wheel. “You can- you could be with Lykaios or Kashel, and I just-“

“What?” Damen said, Kashel’s name hardly even penetrating his memory, the two of them so unbelievably insignificant compared to the person before him that looked so afraid and unsure that it made Damen feel the same, because all he wanted was to take that away from him, and he didn’t know how. 

“I don’t want them,” Damen said, his throat hoarse, turning to Laurent as best as he could. “Laurent, I don’t want the things you think I want. Just let me-“

“No,” Laurent said, loud and absolute, turning to look at Damen before he looked forward again, his throat rolling. “I can’t- your family loves you, you know that?”

“I know that,” Damen said, wiping the water off his face.

“You know that?” Laurent said back, ignoring their view entirely so he and Damen were looking at each other, each of them disheveled and animated, their expressions blown apart in wild conviction. He had a strand of hair sticking to his face, his top button undone like it had been forgotten. 

“ _Yes_.”

“And you’re still willing to put them through this?”

“ _They’re not going to find out_ ,” Damen screamed, the words leaving his chest like a tare, wishing they were on land so he could throw something, so he could grab Laurent and shake him until he saw what was so clear to Damen, what he thought was clear to Laurent before this, before this version of himself that wasn’t willing to fight for them stepped onto the boat.

“How do you know they’re not going to find out?” Laurent yelled back at him, his voice nearly drowned out by the increasing winds and the thrum of Damen’s pulse in his ears, falling rocks that equally clouded his vision.

“Because you promised!” Damen replied. “You said so yourself.”

“But what if your mother-“

“You _told me_ -“

“Your mother-“ Laurent said, the hysteria on his face changing as his eyes widened, his lips unsteady as he grabbed his forehead and stepped back, Damen’s own eyes widening as he moved forward as quickly as he could.

“Laurent, the-“

“Your-“ Laurent said, just as Damen grabbed onto the wheel as fast as possible, his body feeling like his heartbeat would rip it open. “Oh my God, Your mother is going to-“

“She’ll be fine,” Damen said over his shoulder, breathing as deeply as he could to settle himself down as he tried to navigate them smoothly, Laurent’s continuous screaming at him dong the complete opposite.

“Your father,” Laurent said, sounding far and then close, less put together than Damen had ever heard him. “He-“

“Stop,” Damen yelled, turning to look at him over his shoulder, needing him to see Damen, to hear him. “Stop! It’s going to be fine, we’re going to be fine.”

Laurent’s hands were bunched, leaning back on the edge of the boat as he shook his head, his eyes never straying form Damen’s. Even at their biggest arguments, at their tensest moments when Damen had known that he was minutes away from snapping, he had exuded such a calm demeanor that it maddened something inside Damen. He new personally that Laurent was unworldly calm at his most unhinged, seeing him in such chaotic disarray now was terrifying. 

Damen turned back to face forward, his entire body seizing up when the oncoming buoy was the first thing he saw, what felt like feet away from them. 

“Hold on!” Damen said, giving the boat the sharpest turn to the right possible, missing the buoy by just an inch as he pulled them into the clear, oxygen immediately flooding him in relief.

“Now,” Damen said, trying to sound as calm in hopes that some of it would soothe Laurent in turn. “I don’t think hijacking a boat that you can’t even drive is the way to solve any situation.”

He focused on the view of their destination, Ios a growing speck ahead of them. “We’ll figure it out, all right? Whatever happened, we can do this together, Laurent.”

He was met with silence, and Damen shook his head as he felt the metal press into his thumbs. “Now you have nothing to say?” he said, his words sounding just as sour as they tasted. 

“Laurent-“ Damen huffed as he craned his neck back, and he never felt such a paralyzing sensation as he did when he turned to see no one else on the boat.

“Laurent!” Damen screamed, his bones feeling like bricks, body pulsating like he had been plunged in ice, his eyes flying to every centimeter of water that he could find as he looked, something like roaring in his ears as his breaths became pants, increasing in magnitude until he finally saw that familiar head of golden hair, so far away that it may as well have been Damen’s imagination.

It was him, Damen knew. Damen would find Laurent with his eyes closed, the only thought that registered as he turned the boat around as best as he could, driving forward with far too much speed to be safe, knowing he was pushing the limits, and yet all he could think was _faster._

Laurent’s entire body was submerged, his hair plastered to his face as his hands flew out around him like trying to catch something, going under every few seconds before he managed to push back up. His lips were moving, trying to call something out, but all Damen could hear was _he needs you._

“Laurent!” Damen screamed out, as loud as he possibly could. “To the buoy!”

Laurent continued to flail in the water, the look in his eyes something Damen couldn’t focus on if he had any hope of remaining solid for him. 

“The buoy!” Damen said again, finally close enough that Laurent could properly see, pointing towards the large, red buoy that was within a swim’s reach from Laurent, bobbing unevenly on the water’s surface. He knew Laurent was afraid, but he also knew he could do it.

Laurent’s head whipped around as he looked, the constantly moving water hitting him in the face once before he saw it, his movements shaky and ungraceful as he pushed himself towards the mark, grabbing onto one of the rusted handles in a desperate clutch, just as Damen pulled the boat up next to him. 

He wasn’t looking at Damen, his face pressed into his elbow as his body shuddered, and Damen gave himself a second to close his eyes and tell himself that he was fine before he pushed away from the wheel, moving towards the edge and as close as he could to him.

“Give me your hand,” Damen said.

Laurent only clutched on to the same handle with his other hand, his shoulders moving in jolts as he ignored Damen, showing no signs of moving, like he hadn’t even heard him. 

“Give me your hand,” Damen repeated, a little louder, seconds away from reaching in and forcefully pulling him out, not knowing how much longer he could watch that fear roll over Laurent in waves.

“Look at me,” Damen said. “Laurent, look at me.”

When Laurent turned it was with as placid of an expression as he could muster, the wet hair against his cheeks and the iron grip of his hands giving him away. Damen held out his own hands, looking at nowhere but his eyes as he waited, endless seconds ticking by before Laurent placed one hand in his, the other one following in a rapid _slap_ like the warmth of Damen’s body had pulled him in.

“I’ve got you,” Damen said, giving him a tug so his body floated away from the buoy and towards the boat, his legs visibly kicking under the water like that would hold him up. 

“I’ve got you,” Damen said again as he changed his grip, tilting his head down to catch his eyes when Laurent tried to look away, holding his gaze as he tugged, the muscles in his arms straining slightly as he pulled Laurent out of the boat as swiftly as he could, moving an arm to support his body as he lowered him down onto one of the cushions, water dripping from every part of him.

His skin was white like porcelain, his fists moving in front of him as his teeth chattered together, hunched forward and shaking in ceaseless jerks.

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” Damen said as he yanked at the zipper on his sweater furiously, pulling his arms out as quickly as he could and throwing it around Laurent’s body, making sure he was as covered by the warm material as possible.

“You turned the boat-“ Laurent said, his voice a tapered version of itself as it wavered and shook like the rest of him. “And made me fall in- you asshole.”

“You let go of the steering wheel, idiot,” Damen said as he sat himself down beside Laurent and pulled his sweater around him tighter, Laurent’s lips parted as he shivered violently. “Come here, you need to get warm.”

He brought an arm around Laurent and rubbed against his, doing that for less than a minute before he realized that it wouldn’t be enough. The sounds Laurent was making and the freezing touch of his skin was enough to drive out all other reason, Damen reaching under Laurent’s thighs and pulling him onto his own lap, ignoring the sound Laurent made as he wrapped both arms around him, moving both hands up and down Laurent in long, continuous presses.

“You’re okay,” Damen said, running a quick hand from elbow to bicep. He tightened his hold further to make as much hot friction as possible, Laurent mumbling something intelligible as he dipped his head low.

“You’re okay,” Damen said again. “I have you.”

He pressed his mouth against the exposed part of Laurent’s neck and parted his lips slightly, breathing out hot air against his skin and rubbing his back, his arms, his chest, feeling Laurent curl in against him like he couldn’t help it, moving his mouth to another part of him, doing all that he could to transmit as much of his body heat as possible.

“I have you,” Damen said.

 

By the time they docked back at the house, Laurent was mostly dry and indisputably ready for the day to be over. For someone who was unused to having his defenses lowered, he was considerably at a loss as to how to react to having those defenses utterly shattered. 

He was wrung out, unable to do anything but focus on their footsteps as they walked across the bridge and towards the lawn, his thoughts on nothing but bed and solitude where he could give himself the chance to stop and think. His erratic behavior had been ridiculous, and the exposure it had caused was more than he was willing to handle. 

Laurent looked up as they made their way across the grass and towards the walkway, and of all the things that he cared to see in that moment, Theomedes standing by the doorway with his arms crossed and his eyes on them was about the last.

“I’d like to speak to both of you,” he said, not waiting for a glance or a response as he turned and walked down the side steps, making for a large shed on the opposite end of the yard with the assured expectation that they would follow. Laurent didn’t need to look at Damen to know what he would find in his eyes but he still did, glancing behind his shoulder before he walked after Theomedes, Damen trailing behind him wordlessly. 

“Your mother is to never hear a word of this,” he said with a hand on the handle and a look in Damen’s direction, the nature of his words coupled with the pitch of his voice enough to spark something in Laurent’s mind, a slow, faint ticking before the explosion of a bomb.

The shed was dusted and stuffy, light streaming in from the slits in the walls across the length of the floorboards. Wooden planks were resting on the walls along with a scatter of tools and papers, the one clean table supporting the brunt of Halvik’s weight.

“I told you I would check up on you,” she said, her smile an unhurried curl of lips as she raised a hand, looking entirely at ease in her sleek clothing despite the dirtied, broken backdrop.

Laurent’s eyes moved to Damen’s stalled body, just as he turned his head to his father, a bit too quick to seem natural. “What did you do?” Damen said.

“I received a call from Halvik who told me that if you two were lying - which she strongly believes that you are – she would send you to prison.” He crossed his arms against his chest again and looked at nowhere but his son. “So I flew her up here.”

Damen closed his eyes. “Dad.”

“Luckily for you,” Halvik said as she motioned to Theomedes. “Your father here negotiated a deal on your behalf.” Damen’s gaze was skipping from Halvik to his father as she spoke, settling on Laurent in a craze that mirrored the expression he wore on the boat before he looked back to Halvik.

“Now, this deal will last for approximately twenty seconds, so listen closely,” she said, her heels clicking as she shifted her weight. “You’re going to make a statement admitting that this marriage is a sham, or you are going to prison. Tell the truth and you are off the hook, and he,” She said, pointing to Laurent who looked back in silence. “Is going to go back to Vere.”

She spread her hands at her side like that was that, like everything that was going on was as simple as a single statement and a goodbye, like both of their lives weren’t being twisted and turned inside out because of one selfish, impulsive decision. 

Laurent looed to Theomedes who was watching his son with hard eyes, so much of Kastor in his unforgiving gaze that it was hard at times to believe that he was the father of this man who radiated warmth like it was his instinct.

But that wasn’t exactly the case. Laurent could see Damen’s father in him, in his strength of principle and his determinedness in what he thought was right, just as he could see his mother’s open love and compassion.

Damen remained silent, looking between them all with an unreadable expression that was so unlike him, always such an open book, and the fact that that he chose then to mask the way he felt was tremendously inconvenient. 

Theomedes cleared his throat, shifting his body when he realized that his fabricated scenario was not unfolding the way he had anticipated. “Take the deal,” he said. “Son.”

Damen could get out of this, Laurent knew. He’d seen Damen’s dedication to his word those past few days, had seen it on the boat when Laurent was ready to throw everything they’d worked for away, but this was no longer a game. What had been an advantageous arrangement and a morbidly amusing situation at first had changed, had changed _them_ , and Laurent didn’t have it in his heart to blame Damen if he backed out on his word and saved himself. He knew it wasn’t in his nature, but it was no more wrong than putting his life on hold for someone so undeserving.

Damen turned to his father, the man he looked up to and strived to please, even when he was so intent on being his own person. 

“I don’t think so,” Damen said.

Theomedes took a step forward, just as Laurent looked away. “Don’t be reckless, Damianos.”

“You want a statement?” Damen asked, matching the way Theomedes was holding himself. “Here’s your statement.” He turned to face Halvik who was holding a tape recorder out, her brow quirked. “I’ve been working for Laurent since I moved to Delpha and I’ve wanted him since I walked into his office. We started dating a few months ago and fell in love. I asked him to marry me and he said yes. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

He turned around with that, not sparing Theomedes nor Halvik another glance as he walked to the door, puling it open with a steady hand as he waited for Laurent. His own eyes averted as he left them alone in the shed and walked to Damen, the door shutting so that it was only them outside.

The silence that followed them as they walked through the house and up the stairs was similar to that following the boat, though the pounding that Laurent felt was far different, a thrumming that went past his muscles and flowed through his veins, filling his lungs with it and causing each step to make him feel like he was balanced on a tightrope. 

Walking into their room felt different that time, definitive. That would be their last night sharing that space, any space. Tomorrow they would get married, leave Akielos, and it would be the beginning of the end. Damen would become Laurent’s, all while never being more far apart from him, because the countdown to Damen’s freedom would begin.

Damen paced the room as Laurent sat on the edge of the mattress, his fingers skimming the stone mantel of the fireplace as Laurent looed at him.

“Are you sure about this?” Laurent said, needing to ask him one last time.

Damen dragged a hand down his mouth as he turned, letting it drop to his side. ”Yes.”

Laurent didn’t let himself look away. “I’m very appreciative of what you’ve done,” he said, his hands moving to his sides. “But I know this is more than you initially bargained for. I think that-“

“You would do the same for me,” Damen cut him off.

He said it with so much faith, so much surety, like it was the only thing he was convinced of. 

_I would_ , Laurent thought, looking up at him. _I would do more than that for you._

There was a knock before Laurent could say anything, neither of them looking away as the door pushed open.

“I hope everyone is decent,” Egeria said, poking her head inside before walking in properly, pointing to Damen. “You need to come with me, it’s bad luck for grooms to sleep in the same room the night before their wedding.” At Damen’s look she said, “It’s a Veretian tradition.”

“It is not,” Laurent said.

“Oh,” she said, taking a hold of Damen’s arm and tugging. “Relax. It’s one night, you have the rest of your lives to be together.”

She misinterpreted the way Laurent looked away as bashfulness, smiling at them both and dropping her hand. “I’ll give you both a minute,” she said. “But I’m coming back here if you don’t leave. I made up your old room,” she added, turning to Damen before looking between them again. “Goodnight, you two. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She walked out with that, leaving the door cracked so they were alone one last time.

Laurent didn’t know where to look. He didn’t know how to breathe, and the heavy silence in the room only seemed to make it worse, making each second feel like an hour, the stillness pushing Laurent into a corner where all parts of him were displayed. 

“Laurent,” Damen said.

Laurent looked, of course he did. Damen was standing by the doer, his hand on the doorknob, his eyes on Laurent.

“I don’t regret a second with you,” he said. And then he was gone, the door closed, and Laurent was alone. 

Not knowing what else to do, Laurent pulled off Damen’s sweater and looked down at it in his hands, letting himself feel the way Damen had wrapped it around his body before wrapping himself around Laurent in place, holding him against him, holding him together, Damen’s hands and words and heartbeat the only thing that had kept Laurent from falling apart.

He undressed slowly; slipping on his bed shirt and nothing else, walking to the bed and laying himself down on his back with what felt like too much effort, a drag and pull of weighed down limbs. The weight of that week and Laurent’s entire life felt too heavy, and the only person who could lift it for just a second was in another room, no doubt thinking of anything but Laurent who could think of nothing else but him.

He’d been there in seconds. Damen had been the first thing on Laurent’s mind as the water threatened to swallow him whole, and amidst all the hysteria and panic and helplessness Damen was there, his hand out, his hold unyielding.

“You’re okay,” Damen had said, running a hand along every part of his body he could touch.

Laurent almost said, _I’m okay, because I can save myself._

He almost said, _I’m okay, because you saved me._

“You’re okay,” Damen had said again. “I have you.”

Laurent almost said, _I won’t always._

Laurent’s eyes were closed, sleep feeling very far away as his thoughts seized him, holding him somewhere in that place between consciousness and dreams, the longing that consumed each and every one of your thoughts, taking control of your mind and causing your fantasies to play out before you.

Because Laurent was weak, and because he was no longer able to push the thoughts away, he allowed himself to imagine that this was a life where he wasn’t alone in this, where his feelings were reciprocated and that what was going on was more than just his own wishful thinking. 

He thought of what it would be like lying there, time fading into itself as he tried to let his drowsiness overcome him and take him under for a few hours of silence, not expecting the sound of the door opening again. 

He didn’t think he would hear the footsteps outside signaling someone’s approach, or even the sound of the doorknob turning, nothing telling Laurent that someone had entered the room until he’d look over on a whim and see Damen standing in the doorway, his eyes on Laurent. 

Laurent felt his breath catch in his throat as if he were really there, his arms feeling tremulous as he’d push himself up, the gaze that would wash over Damen’s face and darken his features being the only thing that would stop Laurent from speaking, from doing anything but lying there as Damen would walk over to him, eyes scrolling the length of Laurent’s body with the look that Laurent had thought of so many times before, helpless in stopping himself from thinking of the way Damen would look at him upon finally seeing his body, on display for him to see, to touch. Hungry, wanting, as desperate as Laurent had been from the instant he’d looked up form his desk and locked eyes with him.

Laurent would push himself up the moment Damen would reach the edge of the bed, heart knocking as he’d lift himself onto his knees, still not at equal height but close enough that he wouldn’t need to crane his neck back, able to stare into Damen’s lust blown eyes with ease, the unmistakable movement of his chest sending a shot of thrill through Laurent’s.

“Tell me,” Damen would say, because Laurent knew that he would be careful, that he would make certain that Laurent was sure. “Tell me you want this.”

“Yes,” Laurent would say, driven past reason to the degree that no other word seemed conceivable, able to hear the word ringing out in his ears as he laid there, thinking of it. “Yes, Damen.”

Damen would grab onto him then, as sick of waiting as Laurent and just as ready to give them both what they wanted. He would take a hold of his neck and bring Laurent’s body into his, his other hand wrapping around his waist so that he could pull Laurent into him, nearly lifting him off the bed as he pressed their bodies together and met Laurent’s lips with his own.

It would be a forceful colliding, of that Laurent was sure, too much pent up anticipation and simmering need on both of their ends to be anything else, Laurent gasping against his mouth as Damen would part his lips, Laurent’s hands winding around his neck so he could hold Damen tighter, closer, opening his own lips to him in the way that he had wanted to in their first kiss and wasn’t able to.

If Laurent focused hard enough he thought he might feel it, the slide of Damen’s tongue against his and the scratch of his stubble against his skin, Damen leading the kiss with all the domineering power that Laurent craved, thinking he might fall back if Damen wasn’t holding him up.

Laurent’s hands would move down Damen’s body as they’d kiss, eager to get his shirt off and reveal every powerful ripple and stretch of muscle that he’d dreamt about, that he’d longed to feel and claim as his own, marking every inch with his touch and lips. He could see Damen stepping back enough to lift his hands and let Laurent pull it up and off, tossing it aside carelessly as Damen would step back into his space, taking his cheeks back in his hands.

The second kiss would be softer, sweeter, and Laurent nearly whimpered at the thought of Damen kissing him like that, dragging it out so that Laurent felt each slide of his lips, the touch of his hand trailing down his back, palming at his thighs.

“Damen,” Laurent whispered, his fingers trailing against the inside of his thigh like sparks of static, feeling them tremble with how gently Damen caressed him, each point of contact light enough to have Laurent pushing against him, into him, anything to bring him closer.

Damen’s hands would move down his neck and to his shoulders as he’d pull their lips apart, keeping their faces close enough that he would feel Damen breathing against him, his cheeks heating with it as Damen would touch his fingers to the line of his collarbone where his laces began, dark lashes fanning out as he’d look into Laurent’s eyes.

“Can I?” Damen would say against his lips, leaning in to press them together once, softly, waiting.

Laurent would bring his own hands to the laces as he did now, pulling them out of their eyelets one by one as his mind whirled with thoughts of Damen’s large, strong hands against him, moving down his chest and wrapping one against his waist, feeling the way Laurent’s body tightened against him with anticipation. 

Damen would push the shirt apart as his eyes would look their fill, the sound of Laurent’s shirt hitting the floor distant in his ears as he thought of Damen dragging both hands down his sides, tight against his hips.

He would expect Damen to lean down and kiss him, to feel how hot his skin was to Damen’s touch. Instead, He would move both hands down Laurent’s back in an unexpected rush and palm the curves of his ass, lifting him up enough that he could pull one leg around his own waist, hooking Laurent against him so that he could bring a knee up to the mattress and push them both down onto the mattress, Laurent on his back with Damen hovering above him.

Damen would remain that way for a few long seconds, Laurent making no move as he watched him, his entire body screaming at him with months worth of desire ribboning through him, an unexplainable amount of joy surging through him at the fact that this was finally happening. 

Damen would lean down with his head first, that same flair of yearning evident in his eyes before he’d fit his face between Laurent’s neck and shoulder, pressing a kiss beneath his jaw, against his clavicle, Laurent’s head tilted to the side as his heart stuttered, a wave of pleasure rolling through him. Damen’s fingers would move down his front, nails grazing flushed skin, mouth moving down in open presses that Laurent wanted to feel forever.

His fingers would circle Laurent’s nipple, Laurent’s back arching against it as Damen took the puckered skin between thumb and forefinger like he knew how sensitive he was there, his mouth finding the other. Laurent let out a wordless moan, far louder than he ever allowed himself as his nail pressed into his nipple, his thumb moving to soothe the skin as he rubbed against it in circles. Slow, slower, Damen’s tongue moving to lap around it before gazing up at Laurent, lifting himself back up so his arms tensed, biceps tightening with bulging muscle. 

Damen would take Laurent’s hand and bring it to the front of his jeans, urging him on with a slight nod of his head and a gentle press forward. Laurent’s other hand would meet the first and pull at his zipper, pushing at Damen’s pants greedily, teeth pressed into his lip as he would kick them off, Laurent’s hands sliding down his strong, thick thighs. 

Laurent would feel Damen pressed against him, hard and insistent, his arousal made prevalent as Damen would move against him just enough that Laurent would gasp, his mouth falling open as he pressed his hand against himself artlessly. More. He needed-

He imagined Damen looking down at him then, seeing the way Laurent reacted to finally having him, to knowing what it was like to have Damen in the palms of his hands. He felt every bit of his carefully maintained composure shatter with each sweep of Damen’s lashes, his thumb a light swipe against Laurent’s lower lip as they did nothing but lose themselves in each other’s gaze.

He thought Damen might bring a hand beneath Laurent’s body and flip him over, turning him to his stomach so that he could splay his hands down the planes of his back, wanting to know how well they fit against each other, wanting to feed the fantasies Laurent knew he harbored by feeling thigh slide against thigh, arms and legs caging Laurent in, his weight pinning him down.

Laurent might lock up then, tension and inevitable sensations passing through him, but the firm, unmistakable press of Damen’s body against his back would refocus him, recenter his thoughts so that no one else could penetrate them, the gentle nosing and feather light kisses against his nape unable to be anyone but Damen.

“Laurent,” he would whisper against him, lips brushing the shell of his ear, fingers sweeping the hair out of his eyes, and Laurent would soften against him like a reflex because there was no one in the world that could make him feel more safe than Damen.

There would be no talking past that, nothing more than murmured words and names, no questioning if this was right or if they would regret tomorrow, if another line was being crossed. They would be selfish, reckless, their only driving force being those moments where touches blurred and fingers laced, hazy seconds where the world turned and Damen was kissing him again. 

Laurent’s hands were shaky as they moved down his body, thumbs going into the waistband of his briefs as he pushed them off and to the floor. Damen would insist on removing them himself, moving back to his knees so that he could peel them off slowly, lips following the path they made down his thighs, against his knee, the inside of his ankle. The gestures would be slow, but not as slow as the way his eyes would trail back up his legs, absorbing Laurent with his stare alone. Hunched over, large and imposing, the heel of his hand pressed against the front of his boxers.

Laurent spread his legs a bit more apart then, dragging his fingers along the juncture between hip and thigh, a flush coating his cheeks and extending down his neck as he thought of Damen watching him, wanting him. It was vulnerable, it was so unlike him, and Laurent would let him. He would let Damen have him.

Laurent’s grip on himself was light and hesitant, the act itself something that he rarely indulged in, only when his longing became a visceral need that begged physical release. He stroked himself slowly, determinedly, hips bucking off the bed and into his fist in a jerk as he felt Damen’s desire for more, relishing in the thought of captivating his attention and making him wait.

Damen would take himself in his hand then, his own underwear coming off sometime between Laurent taking hold of himself and the first mouthing of Damen’s name, unabashed in that empty room. He would go faster than Laurent, tighter, a rough clumsiness in the jerking of his hand that spoke of countless times in this exact situation, fucking himself in his fist to the thought of Laurent, the person he thought he could never have but had actually had for months.

“Slower,” Laurent would say. His head fell aside so his cheek was pressed to the pillow, seeking the cool comfort of it to ground him, to stop him from losing himself too fast to the fantasy of Damen slowing his own hand, eyes shifting up and down with the way Laurent touched himself so that he could mirror his movements, the two of them hurtling towards that inevitable end together.

Laurent’s free hand was outflung above his head, needing to clutch onto something as his chest rose with breaths, every part of him feeling ablaze like tiny sparks of a flame had scattered across his body and set his nerves on edge. His fingers skimmed the underside of his cock, brushing sensitive skin before wrapping back around the base and tightening, pulling another rush of sensation out of him as he began to move his hand again.

Laurent didn’t care if it wasn’t real, the though of Damen kissing him in soft presses as their hands moved together, their bodies rolling into one another. He didn’t care if any of it was real, the conversations and the handholding and the secrets. In that moment he couldn’t care, because it felt real to Laurent. It felt more real than anything else in his life, more true, and that would have to be enough. His time with Damen, the man he had come to know him as would be enough to last him a lifetime, even if it would never be returned.

Wild with impatience and requiring closeness, Damen would swat Laurent’s hand away and replace it with his own, abandoning his own pleasure in favor of seeing Laurent’s face warm with it. Laurent felt cracked open, newly exposed, though it couldn’t truly be that new. Damen always had a way of making Laurent feel as if he were on clear display to him.

He saw Damen lifting his head and catching Laurent’s eye, neither of them needing words to express what they wanted and were no longer willing to put off. That was what Damen had come for after all, abandoning logic and reason to seek Laurent out on their last day, not caring about what the morning would bring as long as they ended that night together, tangled in each other. 

Laurent’s body would likely stiffen at the first touch of Damen’s slick fingers, fighting with everything in him to stay tethered to that moment, to remain in Damen’s hold, but the past had a way of threatening him at the worst moments, in the ones that mattered most, torn between the black grip of his youth and the warm embrace of Damen’s eyes.

Damen’s hand would brush along his side, his hip, the line of his abdomen, the sweet press of his lips an unrelenting anchor that slowly, steadily brought him back, returning Laurent’s heartbeat to a pace that beat specifically, solely for Damen.

His fingers would be so much larger than Laurent’s, thick and sharp, making Laurent feel as if his entire body was reformed around the place where Damen was touching him. Unhurried, emphatic presses that made Laurent push and writhe, the tip of his own finger pushing inside enough to make him gasp into the silence, Laurent’s entire body burning with the thought of Damen. 

He would tilt Laurent’s face up towards his with his knuckle, fingers sweeping his jaw with so much tenderness and Laurent would feel something in him break, shattering like every bit of his unrequited sentiment had liquefied and seeped into each part of his body, his veins filing with heartache, not knowing what to do with not being able to have this ever again.

He would look into Laurent’s eyes at the first press inside, a deep, slow push that would reshape Laurent’s entire word, never knowing a fullness like the feel of Damen inside him, the feel of his heart growing too large for his chest.

“ _Yes_ ,” Laurent would think, say, unable to feel anything else as Damen continued to bring them together, each time a little more until he was fully inside, the two of them pressed together, as close as they would ever be. The single syllable leaving him in Veretian, in Akielon, any language in which he had ever acquired the word, unable to distinguish it from his own thoughts and the sound of Damen whispering it in his ear, growing in fervor with each continuous thrust of his hips, taking him deeper than Laurent had thought possible.

It would all become instinctive after that, moving together like they were made for this, Laurent’s leg rising around his waist, Damen wrapping his arms around Laurent’s back and clinging to him like that, anything that might bring them both closer together.

No amount of time would be enough, however long it would last. The slide of their chests and the mingling of their breathes, lips colliding as Laurent’s fingers would cling to his shoulders, Damen’s pressing so hard into his hips that Laurent could bring his own hands down later and feel the places he had held him, none of it would be enough. 

_Yours._

_Mine._

_Forever._

They were all words that Laurent was unfamiliar with, and yet they were each the only thing that ran through his head as he let himself feel it, the only words he and Damen would murmur to each other in those final moments, caught in the small world they had created as Damen spilled inside him, his entire body straining as his forehead fell to Laurent’s chest, clutching at his body as Laurent ran a hand through his hair, holding him through it.

Laurent came at that, his own breath stopping as his thighs shook, Damen kissing him feverishly as he brought his hand to meet Laurent’s and stroked out each ounce of his pleasure, the heavy weight of his body a heady presence that would linger inside him long after he would leave.

It was after a few minutes of Laurent lying there, panting into the dark, his clean hand pushing into his hair when he finally regained his clear sight, the images drifting as his breathing returned to normal.

Laurent looked at nothing while he cleaned himself off methodically, keeping his eyes pointed down as he laid himself back in bed and pulled the covers over his hollow body, refusing to acknowledge the empty floor, the empty future. He couldn’t think of it, of what had happened and what, in actuality, would never truly happen. 

A fantasy was all Damen ever was, and it was all he ever would be. He wasn’t Laurent’s, and Laurent wasn’t his. Laurent knew enough stories to know that his didn’t end in forever.


	14. Chapter 14

The first thing Damen thought of on the day of his wedding was Laurent. 

He had opened his eyes to the trilling sound of birds sweeping through the window, and he’d hardly even stretched before he was turning himself to the side so he could see him sleep. 

Confusion hit him first, followed by uncertainty, and it was a rub to the back of his neck and a slow look around the smaller space before he remembered that he was in a different room. Why he was in a different room, to be precise. 

His and Laurent’s wedding was today.

Their wedding. Not a quick drive to a courthouse with two impersonal witnesses, an uncertain follow up where they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways until work. This would have over a hundred people if his mother got her way. It would be in their garden with candles and flowers, with the water behind them and his entire family watching. There would be walking down an aisle, cheers, pictures. There would be Laurent, standing in front of him on an altar, looking in his eyes as they took each other’s hands and promised each other the rest of their lives.

The knock on the door stalled the fantasy in Damen’s mind, prompting him to run a hand down his face as he called whoever it was in.

The door opened, Nikandros appearing with jingling keys in one hand and his phone in the other. He pushed the door shut with his shoulder and tossed both onto the side table, dropping himself down beside Damen.

“What time is it?” Damen asked, leaning back on the headboard. 

“Around ten,” Nikandros said. He looked around, rubbing a hand through his hair as he set his shoulders back. “It’s weird being in here.”

“Yeah,” Damen said. They were in Damen’s old room, the one from his childhood before he had moved out, and would generally stay in if he ever visited home. He had expected to sleep here on this trip but had instead ended up sharing the guest room with Laurent. “Do you remember the time we-“

“Yeah,” Nikandros said, hitting Damen’s elbow with his and grinning at him with the side of his mouth. He stretched his legs out. 

“Any reason in particular you’re here?” Damen asked.

“I’ve been sent by your mom to occupy you from getting in the way and keep you busy, since she assumed I was your best man.” He slapped a hand against Damen’s knee. “Thanks for asking, by the way.”

Damen shook his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “You know I didn’t give any of that kind of stuff real thought.” 

“Seems to be a theme.” 

“We’ve definitely had this conversation already.”

Nikandros let out a long breath, taking one of Damen’s pillows and turning it over in his hands before speaking. “So, you’re getting married today.” At Damen’s silence he said, “how do you feel?”

Damen lifted a shoulder. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel, but he thought he might be able to make better sense of it if Laurent was there.

“There isn’t much to say,” he replied. “I signed up for this.”

“You didn’t exactly sign of for an extravagantly fake wedding,” Nikandros said.

Damen looked at him in silence, and Nikandros did the same. The wedding wasn’t fake, but did that make this real? Damen felt as if he no longer had any idea of what was considered true between them, or what was a fabrication that was maintained for either of their interests. 

“I made him a promise,” Damen said. “And I won’t abandon him. He needs me.”

“But do you need him?” Nikandros asked.

_Yes_ , Damen thought.

“It’s not about me,” he said.

He wouldn’t see Laurent all day. He was sure of it, his mom keeping them apart until the ceremony, not being allowed even a word until the sun would begin to set.

Nikandros pressed his hands into the bed, using the leverage to push himself up and to stand, facing Damen.

“I’m not saying this as your enemy,” Nikandros said. “I’m saying it as your friend. I know you’re going to make your own choices, but I’m just asking you to listen. This isn’t about the two of you anymore, what you manage to secretly pull off over in Delpha. This lie has gotten out of hand.”

He wondered where Laurent was, somewhere in the house or taken into town to keep him away. He thought he might be able to find him, a text or a call to see if they could steal a few minutes away together before the rest of the world intruded. 

“Your entire family has become involved,” Nikandros was saying, still speaking, his back blocking the sun. “They’re going to watch you make vows you’ll never be able to keep, and they’re going to watch them break when this all falls apart.”

Realistically, Damen knew they couldn’t. They wouldn’t see each other until tonight, the moment their lives had unwittingly been leading them to since Damen had walked into his office. They wouldn’t get a moment alone, no chance to talk or figure anything out.

Maybe- after. Maybe once all this craziness was over and they were alone again, they could-

Nikandros said, “Your parents think their son is marrying the man he loves tonight.”

Damen looked up at him. He may not have known what the future held for him and Laurent, but he knew how this night would end, and he wanted Nikandros to know it too.

“He wouldn’t leave me,” Damen said, pushing himself up as well. “And I won’t leave him.”

The day seemed to progress in a blur, directions given to Damen that he accepted with half a mind, comments thrown at him that he hardly registered. The first thing he had considered doing when leaving his old room was chancing a peak into the guest room to catch Laurent in a brief flash, but Nikandros had dropped a hand to his shoulder and pushed him to the opposite direction, towards the stairs.

“He’s not home,” Nikandros said. “Vannes has him off somewhere as well.”

The house was complete chaos, caterers working in the kitchen and utilizing every available surface for some elaborate meal they would surely have after the ceremony, one he and Laurent hadn’t had any say in. Damen wondered if they would eat in the gardens as well or in the ballroom, and knew that he wouldn’t get a single thing out of his mother if he tried. 

He saw all the trucks that had pulled up, men and women carrying piles of chairs to the yard that would later be set in formation, shouts sounding out from windows and pushed open doors, tables rolled in, flowers carried by the armful. Damen observed it all like watching a film, something about the scene feeling like it was a preparation for someone else.

Everyone was going to be in attendance, he knew. Egeria loved to throw a good party, and her son’s wedding would be no exception. Pallas and Lazar had sent him enthusiastic messages, and Jord had called to ask if he could bring Aimeric, some new guy he was seeing. Lykaios had mentioned yesterday how happy she was for him and how excited she was to be invited, something Damen hadn’t even known about but in theory saw no problem with. From those he had attended high school with, to shop owners and workers to extended family, he had no doubt that as much of the country as possible was going to be crammed onto his family’s estate.

His father was scarce throughout all the commotion, as was Halvik. Damen knew she would be in attendance that night, a minor blip that he and Laurent had somehow not anticipated, but it hardly mattered. She had said all there was to say in her office and in the shed, and had given them all the head tilts and falsely concerned looks that were possible. She could do whatever she wanted, could get up in front of everyone and announce her position to the world, and it would do nothing to change the promise he and Laurent were going to fulfill that night.

It was only a matter of time at this point, a collection of hours and seconds, a countdown ticking in Damen’s head. By this time tomorrow, Laurent would be his husband.

 

Morning had come too soon. 

It had been different every other time, waking up to another aimless day where everything they were going through was no more than a concept, a distant idea that they could disregard and push to the back of their minds, but there was no more living in a detached fantasy. Waking up that morning to an empty room had been a sharp slap of reality. This was real, and it was happening. Tonight, everything they had been through would be gathered together and placed between them on the altar, each individual, sweet moment he had stolen with Damen having led them both up to this moment where they both said _I do._

Laurent had hardly taken a few steps out of the room before Vannes was upon him, throwing her arms around him like he was her younger brother, not a virtual stranger that she had only heard of days ago. A pat on the back was what eventually disentangled her, and she’d had a wide grin on her face when she delivered the largely unappealing news that they would be spending the day together.

“I can just spend the day alone,” Laurent had said. “I’ll stay in the bedroom, if I’m not meant to see Damen.”

“You’re not meant to see anything,” she replied.

Laurent tried again but she had persisted, linking an elbow through his and tugging, and that was how he had ended up spending the day wandering around Ios on his wedding day with an over ebullient woman he had met less than a week ago, listening halfheartedly as she prattled on incessantly about everything that entered her mind. How unforgettable the night would be, how happy they’d made her friend, how happy Laurent was going to be.

Laurent was ready. He told himself that multiple times throughout the day, filtering out most of her blathering and focusing only on the bits that mattered. This week had held a few fleeting moments of panic, and he had allowed himself a few different instances in which he measured everything that he was doing, and what it meant. He had considered the situation from every angle, and he was prepared. He knew what to expect that night, and he would not allow himself to be shaken again.

Laurent was not ready.

He had only been brought back to the house when it was almost time, deposited to their room so he could get ready, his freshly tailored suit pressed and new, waiting for him on the bed he’d laid in last night and dreamt in. Laurent was slow in taking his clothes off and slower in dressing, the fastening of Egeria’s family brooch like two opposing magnets being pressed together, everything about it feeling wrong. As he stood in front of the mirror and looked himself in the eye, he wondered how many steps separated him and Damen.

Laurent had been in the garden many times on their trip and each time had seen it differently, yet he found that it had been brought to life for them in a way that he could never have imagined, transforming everything into something mystic. 

Wooden benches were strewn around, looking like they had sprouted from the ground and blended in with the nature around them, the smell of citrus and jasmine in the air. White chairs draped in silk coverings were spread out down nearly half of the yard, flower petals scattered amongst them and down the long, endless aisle that bloomed with candles. Each seat was filled with another person, another smiling face that was unbeknownst to Laurent and still watched him move like they had been waiting for him to enter into this family their entire life. 

The sun was a slow setting roll across the horizon that cast a wavering glow along the water’s edge, everything around them bursting in warm shots of yellows and oranges, transforming the altar into something sanctified and divine. Everything about it, from the soft music playing to the unearthly backdrop was like something out of a fairytale, and yet the etherealness of it all paled in comparison to the man standing before him.

Laurent could have dreamt him, but he knew that no one could ever conjure Damen if they tried. He was more than wishes and fantasies and hallucinations. He was an impossibility that stood out apart from everyone else, a bright presence that no one could ever even think to fabricate, because he was too good to be spun up in the web of someone’s mind. He was too good for Laurent, and yet, he was doing this for him.

Laurent hadn’t seen him until this moment, Neither of them wandering the grounds or mingling with guests, only being brought out when everyone was seated and waiting for them. All the while Laurent had felt an irrepressible buzzing inside him that turned his stomach and reformed his heartbeat, knowing that it was only a matter of minutes before he saw him, before everything Laurent knew he shouldn’t have was given to him. 

The walk down the aisle was like the tear of two different fates, the split of right and wrong pulling Laurent back to the house and forward, toward the altar and the waiting eyes. A part of Laurent felt like his feet were made of stone, holding him down and preventing him from moving on while the other part felt weightless, airless, seconds away from flying into Damen’s arms.

Now they were here, finally, standing across from each other with a minister beside them and an entire crowd of people before them, and Laurent knew he should look around, absorb everything and take it in, but he couldn’t look anywhere but in Damen’s eyes.

Damen stood tall with his shoulders straight and his hands clasped, the crisp white of his shirt making his skin look like bronze in the candlelight, the deep, blood red of his tie sharp and eye-catching, the perfect color scheme for him. His hair was pushed back off his face as well as it could be, and his eyes were a shade of warmth that felt new and secretive, a hue that was just for Laurent. 

There was a lot that Laurent could forget about this day, these moments, so much coming at him and struggling to be retained, but if there was one thing that he would never forget, it was the way Damen looked at him as Laurent stepped toward him.

His family was seated in the front row; most faces unrecognizable but some so newly familiar that it was hard for Laurent to believe that they would soon be strangers again. Theomedes and Egeria sat side by side, and while Theomedes looked at them with an firm, stony expression, he held his wife’s hand and did nothing to counteract the glistening in her eyes or her constant clutching of her chest. 

Kastor and Jokaste were beside them. Even Laurent could admit that Kastor looked handsome, barely holding a candle to Damen, but there nonetheless. Perhaps it was the formfitting suit or the clean sweep of his hair, but Laurent thought it might be the new look he was wearing. His eyes were solely fixed on Damen, his younger brother who longed in silence for his love and acceptance, and there was an ambiguous sort or stillness there that Laurent didn’t understand but hoped that Damen had noticed as well. He couldn’t be too sure, because Damen was looking at nowhere but Laurent.

Makedon was seated with them, Nikandros to his left. Nikandros’s expression was somewhere between resignation and the excitement that one would expect from someone on their best friend’s wedding day. It was an odd combination, though Laurent assumed that he was rather accustomed to it. Vannes was next, as was Talik, their elbows linked with Talik’s head on her shoulder, Vannes fingers continuously sweeping though her hair.

Halvik was on the opposite end of the aisle, the first seat in the second row. She sat with her legs crossed and her hands on her knee, her flinty eyes ready, expression poised like a cat that had a rat in its sights, waiting to pounce. Laurent didn’t know if anyone had questioned her or enquired about who she was, not having been there in the first portion of the evening to catch how she held herself, but he was sure Theomedes had been ready with an explanation, waving away any of his wife’s inquiries. 

All of this had been observed with a fraction of Laurent’s attention, possibly in the first five seconds after having stepped on the altar. That was all he’d managed to dedicate to everyone else. After that, all he saw was Damen.

He was beautiful. Laurent wondered if there would ever be a time where he’d look at Damen and not feel like the breath had been knocked out of him, and knew that there wouldn’t. 

The minister was speaking, motioning to them and to all the watching guests, words that Laurent had heard and read before and never thought to imagine that he would be hearing them about himself. At some point everyone had sat, the music had ended and the birds might have even stopped chirping. It felt like everything in the world had stilled so that all that was in motion was their fate, slowly creeping in on them.

Laurent knew how Damen projected his emotions, the subdued ways with which he showed the way he felt to those who knew what to look for. When he was nervous, he tended to force his gaze away to refocus his attention, to search for the right words elsewhere. Laurent could feel his need to center himself now, though there was also something else in his controlled manner, something like equanimity.

He held Laurent’s gaze as the minister carried on, unflinching when he spoke about how Damen and Laurent’s love was beautiful, honest, unselfish. The eyes of his family burned into them and Laurent’s insides with it, entirely lost in his stare that reflected a world where their destinies intertwined and their story was endless. Standing there, Laurent saw a flash of how it could be.

He caught glimpses of a future where they went to sleep and woke up to each other, a reality where he could feel the vise of Damen’s arms around him, lingering for as long as he wanted. Cooking for each other in mornings, going on trips to visit his family in Akielos, or maybe even going back to Vere where he could show Damen the places that reminded him of his childhood before it had all fallen apart. 

Spending time together because they wanted to and not because they had to, pushing each other to face their fears that they didn’t let anyone else see, that they had slowly uncovered in their time here with no ridicule, no judgment. He had foolishly childish visions of coaxing Damen onto rides where he would take Damen’s hand or jumping into rivers where Damen would hold him close and kiss his wet lips. 

It was so hard to think, to rationalize when Laurent was this close to breathing Damen’s air, the finish line so near that he could feel it. He wanted to get past this block of time and live inside Damen forever, but through the glaze in his honeyed eyes and the distant murmur of the minister’s words, all Laurent could hear was his brother’s voice.

Laurent knew what Auguste would tell Laurent, here, now, if they were together. Auguste was good in a world of bad, too pure to be relatable, despite his unswerving faith in Laurent. He would tell Laurent that he was better than this, that this falsity wasn’t who he was, what he stood for. Just like Damen, he would believe that Laurent was capable of doing the right thing.

Given enough force and pressure, everything eventually reached its breaking point, a limitation in which nothing else could be contained. It was then, with Damen’s family beaming at him and the ghost of his brother’s touch on his shoulder that Laurent reached his.

He could see the flicker on Damen’s face, the poorly contained furrow of his brows like he could hear Laurent’s thoughts, reading him like he always did. Laurent knew he could not go on with this if he was watching him so he pulled his gaze away and turned, resolutely, towards the minister.

The minister’s words slowed significantly, an odd look passing over his own face as he noticed Laurent’s abrupt movement, hesitating before he stopped speaking altogether. The tone of his final statement lilted in question.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, low. He looked between the two of them.

“Laurent,” Damen said. 

“No,” Laurent said. 

He could hear the mutter of the crowd, chairs squeaking like people were pushing up or leaning forward, the unexpected disturbance a blot on their perfect evening. Laurent could practically see Halvik amongst the rest of them, the cat baring its teeth. 

The minister flicked his eyes around before settling them back on Laurent, clearing his voice. “Can it wait?” he asked, quieter than before.

“No,” Laurent repeated. His chest hurt.

“ _Laurent_ ,” Damen said. 

The minister looked at him blankly for another few seconds before he nodded once, stepping back in silent agreement. Laurent felt his own nail dig into his palm as he stepped back, just as Damen took a step towards him.

“Don’t do this,” he said, silent but firm, trying to step into his way like there was no one watching them, the two of them the only people in the garden. Laurent couldn’t look at him any longer, and he diverted his gaze as best as he could as he turned around fully so he was facing their guests, hands at his sides.

He cleared his throat, trying to summon back his voice. His decision had been made, and he needed to force his mouth to catch up with his mind, though his entire body rejected the notion like it couldn’t fathom the idea of forming these words. He was surprised to find that the sun had completely set, deep blue blanketing them as Laurent had been standing there in a daze, silently saying goodbye. 

Everyone was watching him. Theomedes’ mouth was a straight line, Egeria leaning forward with a slight frown. Jokaste’s face was expressionless, but he knew the look in her eyes as she watched him step away from Damen. He knew he was looking back at her the same.

Laurent nodded his head to everyone in acknowledgment, clearing his throat as soundlessly as he could manage. 

“I’d like to thank you all for coming out,” he said, clasping his hands together. He could practically feel the waves rolling off of Damen, the way he was holding himself back from pulling Laurent back or out of prying eyes.

Everyone murmured back in reply, respectful and confused. Halvik was the only person in the crowd that was still smiling, only growing when Laurent felt Damen press against his side.

He wanted this to be over. Laurent had let this entire charade go on for far too long, and he had no one but himself to blame for it ending this way. Lingering and drawing this out would not make it any easier, and it would not make the repercussions any simpler to face. He knew what had to be done.

Damen had shown Laurent kindness at times that he likely hadn’t even deserved, and it was time to do the same. It was time to let Damen go.

“I have a bit of an announcement to make about the wedding,” Laurent said, ignoring the ache in his throat and the throb in the place where he could feel his heart beating, pounding like it could leave his body and stay with Damen. “A confession, actually.” 

“No,” Damen said.

“I’m a Veretian,” Laurent said, plainly, clearly. “With an expired visa, and I was about to be deported. And because I didn’t want to leave this lovely country of yours-“

“ _Stop-_ “

“I forced Damianos here to marry me,” Laurent concluded, and he was falling apart.

He needed to breathe. He allowed himself one second of closing his eyes and wishing things could be different. 

“You see,” Laurent opened his eyes. “Damen has always had this extraordinary work ethic,” he continued, glancing at Theomedes, not needing to elaborate on what he already knew about his son. “For months I watched him work harder than anyone else in our company, and I knew…” He needed to say it. They needed to know who their son had been spared of. “I knew if I threatened to destroy his career, he would do just about anything.”

He knew people were speaking, hushed whispers only growing in momentum, more and more each time someone else in the crowd voiced a person’s thoughts. Laurent didn’t know what was being said, all he could hear was Damen speaking in his ear, telling him to stop.

“So I blackmailed him,” Laurent said, loudly, severing the tie. He had experienced loss enough in his life to know that holding on did nothing in the end. “To come down here, and to lie to you.”

He inhaled. “And I thought it would be easy to watch him do it,” he added, truthfully, because he hadn’t know what it was that he had felt for Damen, then. He didn’t yet understand the kind of physical hold love took on you, the way it reshaped you into something different.

“But it wasn’t,” he said. Each breath hurt more than the last. “As it turns out, it’s not so easy to ruin someone’s life once you find out how wonderful they are.”

Damen was finally silent. Everyone was silent, the glowing, hopeful evening turning into dead, somber night. 

Laurent turned to them, facing them being one of the hardest tings he ever had to do and knowing that he owed them at least that much. He looked at the family that he would never have, and would never call his own.

“You have a beautiful family,” Laurent said. He looked into Egeria’s eyes, the eyes of a mother that tried to love him like her own. “Please don’t let this come in between you. This was my fault.”

He looked down, fleetingly, only glancing up when he felt a touch on his wrist.

“Laurent,” Damen said. His eyes were so honest.

“This was a business deal,” Laurent said, his stomach clenching when the touch turned to a hold, his fingers wrapping around his hand, clasping. ”You held up your end of the deal, but now that deal is off.”

“Don’t,” Damen said, and when Laurent only tugged in response, “don’t leave me.”

If Laurent had anything left inside him, it would have cracked at the core and shattered at Damen’s feet, but all that was left of him was flesh and bones, and a sadness that threatened to bring him to his knees. It took all of Laurent’s residual strength to remove his hand from Damen’s and pull himself away, knowing he would never feel his touch again. 

He forced his legs to take him down the few steps and onto the ground, only managing to let out one last apology and a passing mutter to Halvik to meet him at the docks before he was making his way down the aisle, out of sight and into silence.

He walked fast, as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint, and wondered if he would ever feel again.


	15. Chapter 15

It felt cold out.

It was odd. He was in Akielos, the climate surely thick with summery heat despite it being autumn, and Damen was wearing a dress shirt and a suit jacket. He could tell from the stillness of the branches and the flowers that the air was warm and undisturbed, and yet he felt like he had just been infused with ice water, his bones as brittle as icicles.

Everyone had left, probably. Up and gone, not knowing where to look or how exactly to leave the man that had just been left at the altar, smiling awkwardly at his family that were likely trying to do damage control and act like everything was fine.

Or maybe they were all still there, sitting there in shocked silence as if this was a minor interruption that would shortly be rectified and then they could simply resume. Damen didn’t know. He didn’t care.

His mother was speaking to him, that much Damen was aware of. He could hear her voice and feel her touch along his arm, and it wasn’t until she gripped him tightly and pressed her fingers in that he turned to face her, releasing the beams that he had been bracing his arms on.

Her face was drawn, her dark brows arching inward as she looked at him with an expression of twisted pain and expectant ire. It was a few seconds before Damen realized that she had spoken and was waiting for a response. 

“What?” he said.

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because her disappointment only seemed to deepen with the single world. She put a hand to her forehead, squeezing.

“How,” she said, breathing in, “could you do this?”

Damen’s hands felt trembling, empty. He remembered holding Laurent in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She dropped her hand, whipping her gaze around the garden like she was looking for support. Damen supposed he should look as well, and saw that most people _had_ in fact left. Aside for his family that was standing by the front, there were still a few guests loitering around the yard, murmuring amongst each other. The sight of it amused Damen, his mouth twitching. He didn’t understand what they were still doing here, there wouldn’t be a wedding today.

“Damianos,” she said, sharp enough that she may as well have grabbed his chin and turned him back to face her. “Is this funny to you?”

Damen rubbed his fingers into his eyes, letting out an empty sounding laugh. “No,” he said. “This is definitely not funny to me.” But then he thought, wasn’t it at least a little funny? Of course Laurent would do this.

She pulled his hand away. “You lied to us,” she said. “All of us.”

He did. He had lied for Laurent. 

She strengthened her hold, moving her face when his eyes drifted so he was looking at her. She wasn’t nearly equal to his height, but she might as well have been from the way she held herself. “Do you even feel remorse?” She asked. “You-“

Remorse? Of course he was feeling that. Remorse for putting his family through something hopeless. Remorse for trusting that Laurent wouldn’t hurt him.

She did touch his chin then, keeping his gaze in place. “ _Say something_.”

Damen blinked, not knowing what was expected of him now. There had been a plan, a promise made between the two of them. Damen was good at handling surprises, at navigating a situation when things took an unexpected turn, but being left at the altar was slightly out of his area of expertise.

Egeria’s grip on him ensured that he couldn’t look elsewhere, but Damen knew what he would find if he did. Disappointment in Vannes’ eyes, with maybe a little shocked disbelief. Regretful anger in Nikandros’, like maybe a little more of his pestering would have prevented this. Twisted triumph in Jokaste’s, and perhaps a little pride in Kastor’s because now Damen would be the one that blotched their perfect family image. His father probably didn’t want to look at him.

He knew Egeria was waiting for him to explain himself, to explain this, how all of this had happened, but for once, Damen didn’t have the answer. He looked down at her, and forced the words to come.

“He left me.”

She took a step back, wrapping her arms around her waist and staring up at Damen, wordlessly. Damen said nothing.

“After what I just heard.” She shook her head, motioning to where Laurent had gone. “Wasn’t that always the plan?”

Damen felt a surprising rush of resentment and carefully, forcefully suppressed it. His mother didn’t deserve his combativeness, none of this was her fault.

“No,” he said, steadily. He looked to the aisle, the one he had walked down with Laurent on his mind. “The plan was for us to be in this together.”

“Damen.” She sighed. 

Where had he gone wrong? He knew Laurent was afraid, he knew that he’d been feeling regret, unsurety about what they were doing, but so was Damen. They’d both been going through all of this together, from the day since he’d met Laurent until the moment he’d left him in their room, alone, his hair still a little damp from his fall. Damen had told him- He’d really thought-

“ _Damen_.”

Damen looked back at her, and it was in that second that he knew he needed to go to him. He had to deal with his family, with all of this, and he would. But Damen had let too many things in his life go, and he wasn’t going to let Laurent go as well, at least not without an explanation. 

“I’m sorry, mom,” he said again, stepping away from her. 

He knew only a fraction of what his mother had been through in her life. He knew she’d been hurt, and most of her anger now was because she had let Laurent into her heart as well. He couldn’t explain anything away until he knew what to say, which was why he had to find Laurent, before it was too late.

So he turned, going down the altar steps and across the aisle, ignoring anyone who might have tried to stop him and speak, only one person on his mind. At some point he had began running, not caring how crazed he might look, because it couldn’t be half as close to how he felt.

He went through the kitchen doors where he and Lauren had held hands on the night of family dinner, passing Hades on the ground as he bound up the stair, taking two at a time with his hand sliding up the railing, his shoes loud on the polished wood. His tie was flung behind his shoulder as he turned the corner, nearly tripping on himself as he brought a hand to the archway and pushed the door open, his heart in his throat.

Damen knew the instant he entered the room that it was over. There was a stillness inside, a quiet that told him that he was alone, because it was never silent for him when Laurent was around. Whether it was the sound of his voice or the magnitude of his presence, Damen was never less aware of other factors as he was when he was with Laurent.

He walked inside anyway, his eyes trailing the marble floor he had slept on, the bathroom that they had shared. He remembered the way Laurent had blushed bright pink when they had ran into each other naked, and the sound of Laurent’s laughter when they listened to the fire and told each other about their pasts. 

Opening the closet was pointless, and yet Damen still felt a pang of emptiness when he checked inside and found clean shelves. The toiletries from the bathroom were gone, and the bed was neat, pristine, sheets pulled tight. His phone charger was out of the outlet, the lion doll gone from the strew of pillows.

There were only a few things on the bed, set down carefully on the edge, neither of them touching. His family brooch that Laurent had been wearing. It was the first thing that Damen noticed when he had set eyes on Laurent, the second being how beautiful he looked. A large, thick bundle of papers that were held together by a clip, and beside that, a note.

Damen picked the bundle up first, inspecting it for a moment before realizing that it was the manuscript that he had tried to get Laurent to read the previous week, the one that Laurent had discarded with indifference. He only gave it a few seconds of his attention before he tossed it down and reached for the folded over paper, his name scrawled across the front in that achingly familiar handwriting. 

_You were right, this book is special. I lied because I knew publishing it meant losing you as an assistant, and I needed you. You have an extraordinary eye, and I’ll make sure we buy this before I leave._  
Have an amazing life, you deserve it.  
I don’t regret a second with you, either.  
Laurent. 

“So, you lied.”

The voce was the only thing that stopped Damen from re reading the note for a third time, already having turned it over to see if there was anything else, any other fucking explanation. He felt the page nearly tear between his fingers as he looked up, the last person he expected to come after him standing there, arms crossed.

Kastor looked around the room, and something about the distant nature of it reminded Damen of the way the two of them would play hide and seek here when they were boys, the large room giving them ample areas to utilize. It almost felt like that was the last time they’d been alone.

Kastor eyed the letter in his hands. “Didn’t know you had it in you,” he said.

Damen looked back down at the words, blurring together into the same, singular memory of Laurent turning around, walking away, leaving.

“I guess I did,” Damen said. He folded the letter up, not knowing what exactly it was that he wanted to say at that point. He figured he could ask his brother what exactly it was that he was doing there, being that they were no longer the kind of brothers that comforted each other, but at that point even that felt futile.

Kastor pushed his hands into his pockets, like he was only just realizing who they were and how odd this was. He looked around again, his eyes on the balcony that led out to the empty chairs and the uneaten wedding cake.

Damen opened the note, his tongue between his teeth as he read through it again, and he was speaking before he closed the letter, before he focused too hard on who this was he was speaking to.

“You know what the problem is?” Damen said, turning away from the balcony and to his silent brother. “The problem is that this man,” he raised the paper. “Is an unbelievable, gigantic pain in my ass. First there’s the whole leaving thing, and I can understand that. The wedding was a sham, it was stressful, fine.”

“But then,” he crumpled the paper up into a ball and threw it across the room, wishing it had made a crashing sound as it hit the wall. “He goes ahead and writes me this fucking note. Because he doesn’t have the decency- the _humanity_ to say it to my face. For _months_ I worked for that bitch, and he just-“

Damen was shouting. He knew he had been getting louder with each word, but it only seemed to penetrate when he heard the way his voice seemed to bounce between the two of them. He turned around and pushed his hands into his hair, wanting to scream at everything, because when had things gotten this fucked up?

Eventually he turned back around, and though he didn’t know what exactly to expect, it was certainly not to see Kastor grinning.

It was subtle, barely there, something only someone who knew him well could point out. It was more in the crease of his eyes than the twitch of his mouth, but if there was one thing Damen had fixated on when he was young, it was the things that might make his brother happy.

“What?” Damen nearly spat.

“Your problem,” Kastor said. “Is that you really never could see what was right in front of you.”

Damen stared at him, not knowing what to make of that or if there was anything to reply at all. His mind was capable of taking it in several different ways, and while it did, he didn’t miss the raise of his brother’s brow either.

Damen looked down at the bed where Laurent had slept each night, and to the doorway which Laurent had walked though, intending to leave Damen behind forever. 

He didn’t know what to say to Kastor, it had been so long since they had spoken about- _anything_ , really. But in the quiet guestroom with nothing else around, nothing from the past or their problems, Damen looked forward and saw his brother.

“I,” Damen said, his mind already moving forward. “I’ll see you.”

Kastor didn’t reply, and he didn’t need to. Damen had gotten what he wanted, what he hadn’t known that he had wanted, and that was the only thing that mattered as he ran.

Damen hardly felt any time pass as he raced through the house and out the backdoors, knowing that the gardens was the quickest way to cut through to the gravel driveway where his truck was parked. He heard a chair get kicked over as he pivoted out of a woman’s way, going around a large round table.

“ _Damen_.”

He would technically need to go through town to reach the landing where the planes took off, but he knew the risk of taking the boat to Isthima at night. He remembered a route that he had found when he was younger that might take him there, but that would only take longer-

“ _Damianos_.”

Damen was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, and he knew before he was spun around that his father was one of the very few people strong enough to hold him back. He yanked his shoulder out of the grasp and turned, Theomedes standing before him, his family a few steps behind. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, like he had caught his youngest child trying to sneak out of the house at night.

Damen pulled his jacket off; throwing it onto a nearby bench to lessen the restriction it gave his body. As he loosened his tie he said, “after him.” 

His fists at his side, Damen watched his father step towards him. “You cannot be serious, Damianos,” he said. Pointing to the alter, “after what he just did to our family! After what he’s put us through, you would-“

“Theomedes-“

“After what _he_ did?” Damen asked, waving his hand there as well. “ _I_ agreed to his plan. _I_ brought him here to meet all of you, and _I_ announced our engagement. You’ve faulted me for all of my other choices, why not this one as well?”

“Damianos-“

Damen could feel everything boiling inside him, and he knew this was not the time for this conversation to be had. Everything that he needed to deal with – there was so much to fucking deal with – he would. He just needed to-

“Everything I have done,” Theomedes said, pushing a finger into Damen’s chest. “Everything I have said, it was to give you every opportunity possible. And you want to just throw it all away-“

“I’ve thrown nothing away!” Damen shouted, feeling overwhelmed with disdain, the last feeling he ever wanted to be associated with his father. He shut his eyes and breathed, trying desperately to remember what it was that Laurent had done each time he’d managed to tamper down Damen’s anger this trip, and subsequently hating himself for it. He was so mad with him, and he needed him.

Damen opened his eyes and forced his vision clear, trying to see his father for the man that he knew he was, the one who just wanted the best for his family, despite the ways he went about it. Damen had seen nothing wrong with his father’s ways when he had been young, but he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man, and it was time he gave himself everything he wanted, and never let himself have.

“I want you to be proud of me,” Damen said, pointedly calm, fingers unclenching. “You’ve inspired me by starting something from nothing. Let me do the same.”

He couldn’t wait for his father to reply, not sure if he was even ready to hear it. All he knew was that each second that passed was another chance lost, and he had let Laurent slip away far too many times.

He was turning away before anyone could speak, and the hand that grabbed his then was different. Less intrusive, more familiar.

“I don’t agree with this,” Nikandros said, pulling his keys out. “But I told you I was going to stick with you through this. Let’s go.”

“I’m coming with you,” Egeria said, picking the bottom of her dress up and walking towards them. Before Damen could protest, “If he was strong enough to walk away from you, he’s strong enough to deal with my scorn.”

Damen didn’t wait to hear anything else, or to allow anyone else to join in. He had somewhere he needed to be, and enough time had been wasted.

The car ride was a blur that seemed to drag on forever; a part of him convinced that he would get there quicker if he simply ran. He felt helpless, powerless, knowing that Laurent very well could have been gone by then and he was doing virtually nothing, sitting uselessly in a passenger seat while he continuously shook his foot, willing the car to go faster, and for the world to slow down.

He’d opened up to Damen. He’d trusted him. He let him in.

He left him.

His mother was speaking to him, her hands rubbing his shoulders, but Damen felt none of it, nothing but the press of his fingers digging into his knee. The tarmac was slowly coming into view, the glowing lights a spark in the distance, and Damen’s heart sped up in his chest to a painful, off beat _thump thump thump_ as he saw a lone plane on the cement, moving forward in a slow, steady roll that worked on Damen like a rope pulling him forward.

“Damen!” Nikandros yelled out when he pushed the door open and jumped, feet barely hitting the ground before he was running, moving as fast as his legs would take him onto the long, dark stretch of pavement. He could hear people screaming, men calling things out that he ignored, the air burning in his longs so tightly he thought they would burst.

The plane was moving faster by then, and Damen watched in despair as it picked up momentum, moments away from tipping up towards the sky and leaving him behind there like nothing. The only thought passing through his head was _Laurent is on that plane._

Damen’s hands felt unsteady as they fumbled through his pockets, digging them in deep before his fingers finally touched his phone, pulling it out and praying to God that he still had the number he was looking for. He scrolled as quick as he could, his thumb moving clumsily as he realized he had gone too far and scrolled back to the _O’_ s, bringing the phone to his ear.

The sounds everything was making felt unnaturally loud, a screeching in his ears that made him want to smash his fist into something, preferably one of the turning wheels of the plane that were threatening to take Laurent away from him.

“Let’s go!” Damen said, glaring up at the watchtower, just as he heard the _click._

“Tower, talk to me.”

“Orlant,” Damen said loudly, needing to shout over the noise. “It’s Damen.”

“Oh hey, what’s up, man?”

“Listen, I have a favor I need from you. Laurent is on that plane,” he said, not even sure if Orlant had heard about his engagement and not particularly caring. “And I need to talk to him, can you stop it?” 

“Oh shit,” Orlant laughed, and Damen swore he could hear the sound of a chair squeaking and what sounded distinctly like two feet kicking up onto a hard surface. “I heard about your man bailing. Sucks, bro.”

“ _Orlant_ ,” Damen yelled, pushing his hand down his face and reminding himself that throwing the phone at the tower would do nothing for his situation. “I need you to stop that plane. Please, can you help me?”

“I can’t do that,” Orlant laughed again, just as Damen heard the bone shaking sound of a loud _swoosh_ , whirling himself around just in time to see the plane zoom across the tarmac with a horrifying amount of speed, everything in his world stilling for five seconds as he watched it tip back, jolt, and fly up, up, into the air.

“No, no, no, no- _Come on_!” Damen screamed, the gust of wind hitting him nearly enough to throw him back, but maybe that was just the impact of everything he felt he had just lost. His hair was a tangle in his eyes, his entire body threatening to give out as he watched the plane become a teeny, tiny speck in the sky, and then it was gone.

 

Laurent rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, his thumb moving in circles as he looked around the nearly empty office. It was astounding how much of a difference could be made in just a few hours, anything of personality wiped away, shelves cleared off, files and books packed away. Never would Laurent have imagined that this would have been the state that things would come to, all traces of himself gone with a deadline over his head, but if there was one thing that he knew intimately, it was that his life never gave him what he expected. 

Laurent pushed the final drawer shut and straightened himself, running a hand along the emptied surface of his desk. He hadn’t had much as far as personal mementos inside his office; the singular picture with Auguste the first thing he had taken out, followed by the other scant few items, but the notion still stood. Come this time tomorrow, all remnants of Laurent would be gone from Acquitart Publishing.

He was everywhere Laurent looked. Walking into the building and up to the ninth floor, he saw Damen’s desk like a neon sign as he went around it and into his office, shutting the door behind him and leaning his head back. No one had looked his way, or thought to question his absence. He closed his eyes and breathed.

It was worse inside. Everywhere he turned, every single spot in his office held him in Laurent’s mind, all the more vivid now that he knew what was inside him. 

He saw him seated at the edge of the couch, the tip of the pen in his mouth as he read through a manuscript and jotted down notes, always holding out hope that Laurent would listen and apply them to his next meeting. He saw him leaning on the wall with Laurent’s coffee waiting in hand, bent over his desk to see whatever it was Laurent was showing him. Always there, no matter how hard Laurent pushed.

The flight had been dreadful, the punctuation to the final sentence of a novel. For someone who had never had any problem with flying, Laurent had felt a drop in his stomach like no other when they took off, closing his eyes resolutely, unable to see another second of Akielos. Of anything.

Laurent gathered a pile of papers from the table and folded them up as best as he could. He threw them into the overstuffed garbage bin at the side of the room, focusing on more practical things. His flight to Vere was at eight o’clock that evening, he should probably be at Delpha International around two hours before check in, and he still had plenty of packing to do, only managing to get through half of his apartment when he’d gotten home before collapsing in exhaustion.

He reached for one of the last boxes and stacked it on top of another, bringing his arms around the bottom and lifting. He would have most of his office contents mailed straight to Vere from here, but he had his car waiting downstairs to take everything that he could handle back on his own.

He struggled with the door handle for a few seconds, fumbling around everything in his arms before he finally got it down, pushing the door open with his hip. The office was abuzz with voices and noise, people constantly walking from one cubicle to the next, the sound of printers always going off. Laurent ignored everyone who avoided him as he walked around the clusters of people, making straight for one of them bent over a computer.

“Aktis,” he said, setting the boxes down beside him as gently as possible, slapping a paper down not so gently. “I need you to send the boxes in my office to this address, please.”

Aktis looked down at the words with an odd hesitation, and it occurred to Laurent that most of them likely didn’t even know that Laurent would be leaving, if any at all. He didn’t have time for explanations, nor did he care to give them. He just wanted to leave, and to be done with everything. “Can you do that?” he asked, with as much patience as he could muster.

“Um, sure,” Aktis said, looking up at Laurent. He was about to glance back down before he stopped, his eyes catching on something over Laurent’s shoulders, head tilting just so to the side.

“I- sir?” he said, when Laurent had begun to pick the boxes back up and move away from him.

“What?” Laurent said, the word pushed out as he looked back at him, uninterested. Aktis’ eyes swung to the side again, a strange expression on his face as he pointed. Laurent pressed his lips together as he turned, immediately wishing he had not.

“Damen,” Laurent said.

He was there, stepping into the large office with his gaze forward. It was like every other time Laurent had seen him in here, but everything was different. He was dressed in casual clothing like he had been each day on their trip. He was breathing heavily; licking his lips through a deep inhale as he came forward. He was only looking at Laurent.

It hurt to say his name. Laurent felt it like shards of glass in his throat, like pushing something large through a place it was not meant to fit. He hadn’t planned on saying his name again until he could manage it without feeling weighed down by sadness, if such a time would ever come.

“Hi,” Damen said. 

Laurent looked around. Damen didn’t.

“Why are you-“ _here. Why do you need to make this harder for me._ “Panting.” 

“Because I’ve been running,” Damen said. He stepped around a narrow desk and moved without paying attention to what he might bump into.

“From Akielos?” Laurent asked. 

“I need to talk to you,” Damen said. He was standing a few feet away, the same distance that had been between them right before Damen had hugged him for the first time.

“Yes well, I don’t have time to talk,” Laurent exhaled, turning around and handing his personal boxes to Aktis as well- fuck it.

“Laurent-“

“I need these boxes to go out, today,” he emphasized, clapping his hands together. “I want to make sure-“

“ _Laurent, stop talking_.”

He had spoken forcefully enough to jar Laurent out of the resistance he had wrapped himself in, spinning him around and shutting any mental barrier that had been placed between them when he had walked away and left Damen at the altar, alone. Laurent looked back at him and felt his blood pulse, his façade threatening to crack. He didn’t know how much people expected he could take before he finally, definitively broke. 

Damen inhaled, raising a finger. “I’m going to say something.”

Laurent crossed his arms against his chest. “All right.” 

“This will only take a second.”

Laurent was aware of everyone watching them, and poorly pretending not to. Everything in him felt wrung out and left to dry in the garden at Damen’s family’s home, wilting on the grass amidst flower petals and candles, twinkling lights above it. 

He’d done it. He’d ignored every want and instinct inside him and tore himself away, and yet here Damen was, ready to torture him further. He didn’t have the slightest clue what it was that he was doing there, but whether it be accusations or something entirely worse, Laurent was certain he had already told himself the worst of it.

“Fine,” Laurent said, wanting him to disappear. The quicker Damen left, the quicker he could start trying to forget how he looked when he smiled at him. “What?”

“Seven days ago,” Damen said, lowering his hand and inching in a bit closer. “I hated you.” He lifted a shoulder. “Mostly.” 

Laurent didn’t blink. It was nothing he didn’t know, but hearing it wasn’t particularly pleasant. 

“I used to sit at my desk and dream about you nearly getting hit by a cab,” he continued, blankly. “Or poisoning your coffee.”

“Oh,” Laurent said, leaning on the edge of the desk, looking at the door. “That’s-“

“Yeah, I told you to stop talking,” Damen spoke over him. Laurent breathed out through his nose and looked back at him, raising his brows.

He had no idea how to peg the expression on Damen’s face, only that it was altering every few seconds, like he wasn’t sure how exactly to feel. He really was out of breath, which only made Laurent wonder why exactly he’d been running. He stood there as still as he could, waiting for Damen to make his point and assume all of the retribution that he wanted so they could finally be done and go their separate ways. Laurent stared up at him and thought, _what do you want from me?_

“But then,” Damen said. “We had our little adventure down in Akielos, and things started to change.”

Laurent stood motionless. He didn’t allow himself to blink, let alone speak, even as Damen began to close whatever space was left between them. He knew things had changed, but the outcome was the same. It would always be the same.

“Things changed when we kissed,” Damen said, looking at Laurent like every gasp and whisper was an insignificance, an irrelevance. He was just as close as he’d been that day, when Laurent finally learned what his lips felt like. 

“They changed when you held my hand,” Damen continued, and Laurent knew that he would never forget how warm his eyes were, no matter how hard he tried. “And when you told me about your tattoo.”

It took everything in Laurent not to step away, every fragile bone in his body, each individual part of him that was begging him to remind himself what it felt like to be held by Damen. That night - every night with him – burned in Laurent’s flesh and ingrained a place in his mind, and he felt all too aware of the countless amount of people. Watching them, prying into everything they had gone through. Everything that felt like too much, would always feel like too much for one singular person to hold inside them alone.

Because he was Damen, and because he somehow always knew what Laurent needed, he diverted their tone from the achingly personal one by saying, “even when you checked me out when we were naked.”

Laurent knew his cheeks were burning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, because it felt so good to be talking with him again. Even if that made him weak, he didn’t care.

“Well, I didn’t see anything,” Laurent replied.

“Yes you did,” Damen said, and everything about him was so painfully familiar. Laurent didn’t know why he was telling him these things, but that part of him – that weak part of him – clung to it.

“But I didn’t realize any of this,” Damen continued, speaking over all the different things Laurent could hear in his head, sounds and notions and hopes all combating each other. “Until I was standing alone,” he said. “At the altar. Husbandless.” 

“Now,” Damen said, speaking when Laurent made it clear that he was capable of nothing more than gawking back at him. “You can imagine my disappointment when it suddenly dawned on me that the man I love is about to get kicked out of the country.” 

He hadn’t been aware that he had looked away until his gaze snapped back to Damen’s, his chest feeling so tight that he might as well have bee backed against a wall, two arms pressed against him. Damen looked down at him with so much fondness, so much warmth, and it was all Laurent could do not to crumble to the floor or to turn, to back away, the run.

He heard it again in his head. He swallowed down the pressure and looked up at the ceiling, wishing so desperately that he was normal, that he was someone that could do this, that could know what to say. Damen was- he _couldn’t_ \- 

“So, Laurent,” Damen said, gently, ignoring everything else around them and speaking like the two of them were the only people in existence. He looked nervous, young, and Laurent felt his heart soar. “Marry me.”

Laurent’s entire body shuddered. He felt it in his legs, in his chest, a place that had been so empty for years and that somehow, slowly, had been filled again. He had moments and memories and feelings, and it was all because Damen had entered his life and filled it with color again.

Laurent’s heart felt off-kilter, too unstable for this man that he had given it to, so whole and sweet and pure, so deserving of everything good in the world that he tried to believe existed. As long as there was Damen, Laurent knew that good had to be possible.

But that was where it all fell apart. Damen’s lips were parted, his breathes hardly stirring. Laurent took all of him in, and tried to understand how someone like him could ever be with someone like Damen.

It was Laurent that closed the last of the distance between them, knowing he needed to at least try to speak. 

“Trust me,” he said, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “You don’t really want to be with me.”

“Yes I do,” Damen said, an immediate firmness to his voice that took up another spot in Laurent’s soul, an unimaginable contrast to the tenderness in his eyes. “I know you better than anyone,” he said. “And I want to build a life with you.” And Laurent was lost.

It would be so easy. It would be so effortless to let go, to take the leap that he knew Damen was making, here, in front of all of these people, just like he had in front of all of his family. He was fighting for Laurent, and Laurent wanted to fight back for him. He did, but he knew he couldn’t let himself give in without one last try, one last wall.

“The thing is,” Laurent started, hardly recognizing his own voice. “There’s a reason why I’ve been alone all this time. I’m comfortable that way.” He shrugged. “And I think it would be a lot easier if we just forgot everything that had happened,” he said, knowing that would never be possible for him, and a part of him starting to see that it wouldn’t be for Damen either. “And I just left.”

He felt each breath, each individual beat of his heart, a punctuation to what he had said, to what he already wanted to take back. He and Damen looked at each other, Damen’ lips a soft line like words were no longer necessary, and it was with baited breath that he reached out, and cupped Laurent’s cheek in his hand.

“You’re right,” Damen said, and Laurent felt something broken inside him slowly snap into place. “It would be easier.”

It was all he said, like it was all that needed to be said. Laurent heard the silence in the office as he pressed his mouth together, parted his lips. He was nodding his head, trying to breathe, each touch of his skin on Laurent’s like a branding. He was shaking his head, and he was weak. 

He was strong. Damen made him feel strong.

“I’m scared,” Laurent whispered.

“Me too,” Damen whispered back. And then Laurent wasn’t afraid anymore, because Damen was kissing him.

It was not something Laurent could ever describe, the way it felt to have Damen’s hands on his face, fingers tilting his chin up so he could press their lips together. Laurent’s hands had gone to the nape of his neck without any thought, fingers pushing into his hair as their chests pressed together, Damen’s lips sliding between his. Everyone was around, everyone was watching, and Laurent didn’t care. He never had to care again, because Damen was his.

They pulled away after a few minutes, or a few seconds, enough time that Damen’s lips were wet, his eyes dark. Laurent’s own lips felt like they were tingling, entire body electrified, and that time it was him that pushed up onto his toes and pulled Damen’s mouth back down to his.

He knew there was cheering. He could hear the shouts, the little phrases that were being called out and whistled, but all that mattered to Laurent was the way Damen’s arm had wrapped around his waist, his other hand moving down to his neck so he felt his pulse beat against him, his forehead warm and solid as they pressed together.

“Aren’t you supposed to get down on your knee this time?” Laurent said against his mouth, his heart moving with each breath against his face.

He could feel Damen’s lips curve against his own, and that was a thrill in its own way. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

“Oh, okay,” Laurent whispered, and he felt his own lips spread in a helpless smile as Damen leaned in and kissed him again.


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so if you haven't watched the proposal movie, then the last chapter is how the movie ends so the story is technically over there. i initially planned to write an epilogue and then bounced back and forth between the idea, but essentially decided they deserved it (they always deserve a happy smutty epilogue) so heres that.  
> thank you for all the comments and messages and everything, you're all a fucking delight. im not sure when i'll post another long fic but i wont promise light angst bc i tried that this time and apparently failed lol  
> ILY ALL ENJOY <3

**three days later**

Laurent ran a thumb along his cheek as he reached across his desk for a pen, underlining the final paragraph twice before flipping to the next page, tapping the pen against his knee as he continued to read. What he’d read so far of the manuscript seemed interesting enough, but Laurent wasn’t sure if it fit the overall tone of the books they tended to publish at Acquitart. 

“What do you think?” Laurent asked.

He felt Damen’s arm tighten around his waist as he leaned forward closer to the desk, his chin grazing the top of Laurent’s arm so he could better read over his shoulder. The notion of it brought color to Laurent’s cheeks as he felt Damen’s chest press against his back, a reminder to the way they were sitting that he was still trying to wrap his mind around, despite the near half hour that has passed. 

Due to his promotion to editor, Damen was technically entitled to an office of his own, his meager desk by Laurent’s door too beneath his new position. He had been given Guion’s office to claim as his own, but for some reason was still opting to spend most of his time in here. 

Laurent had come back form the bathroom to find Damen sitting in his chair, unconcerned, though he had glanced up from his phone with a private smile when Laurent’s shadow covered him. Laurent had looked at him for a silent stretch of five seconds before pushing Damen’s bag off his lap and taking its place, ignoring any expression that he might have found.

“It’s good,” Damen murmured, his thumb making a small circle against his stomach. “I’m sure we can work with it.”

A palm moved unobtrusively along his knee, and Laurent felt that same wave of heat in his stomach, causing his breath to catch. Damen was so guileless with his affections, so simple and genuine, without expecting anything in return. He’d known this about him, had guessed it, but to experience it wholly and singularly on him was something else entirely.

It had been like this between them, undemanding and new, their exchanges not yet varying past a range of kisses, despite the difference in fervency behind each of them. It felt maddeningly slow, and yet Laurent still felt as if he needed to catch his breath every time Damen touched him in this new way, despite how crazed he felt with impatience.

They had yet to be as physically close as they had been on the night of Laurent’s flight, when Damen had followed him back to his apartment when the audience of the office had become a bit too much. Damen hadn’t even taken five steps inside when he had paused and looked around, glancing at all of the boxes that were lining the walls, most of the living room and kitchen packed away. He had frowned at everything wordlessly, just standing there for a minute before he began to unpack everything with a hurried determination as if he knew where anything went, or as if the boxes remaining sealed for the night would send Laurent away. The sight of it caused Laurent to feel like his chest had been filled with air.

He’d allowed it to go on for a few minutes, mainly out of the vague curiosity of how long Damen was willing to go or if he would begin to rearrange furniture as well if Laurent left him undisturbed before he’d walked forward, kicking a box away from him and pulling a jacket out of Damen’s hands.

“Stop,” Laurent said. 

Damen had looked up at him from the ground, the heaviness of his gaze a response to the unspoken words in Laurent’s eyes. 

Laurent had dropped the shirt about the same time that Damen stood up, unsure which one of them reached for the other first.

It all made Laurent react the same, a constant skip in his stomach and fumbling in his touch, not knowing how he had actually managed to get to this point where Damen held him, touched him the way Laurent had only dreamt of being touched, his thumbs digging into Laurent’s hips as he pressed him into the wall. _This is real_ , he’d told himself, his uncontrollable doubts there, just outweighed by the feel of Damen’s hand against his back, the slide of his tongue. _He feels it too._

After, they’d talked. Neither of them had wanted to bother cooking so they’d ordered pizza, Damen using Laurent’s house phone like it was his own, like he was comfortable there. Laurent watched the way he twirled the cord around his finger as he placed their order, needing to bite his lip as he bent down and picked up all the discarded clothing so he wouldn’t smile stupidly. 

They’d sat on the ground and eaten straight out of the box for no good reason, a perfectly good table five feet away from them. It felt so much like the night they’d sat on Damen’s couch and ate, watching TV and just feeling each other’s company, but it was different. It was so different, because unlike then, Laurent now knew that he could have this forever. 

Damen didn’t ask about what Laurent had done to him, and for that he was grateful. It had been hard enough to relive it every moment since he’d walked away, he didn’t think he could bear speaking about it, explaining it. He knew from the way Damen looked at him that he understood why he had done it.

They’d talked about silly things, pointless things, and it all meant so much to Laurent that he was convinced that the way he was feeling couldn’t have possibly been normal. He knew they would need to address certain things eventually, his family likely hating him for one, but in that moment his only priority was hearing Damen talk to him.

Damen had helped him properly unpack his things when they’d finished, and by that point it had been so late that Laurent’s memory of that portion of the night was murky. He’d woken up the next morning on his couch, wearing the same clothes, a blanket draped on top of him.

Damen had been on the floor, as if after all that was said and done between them he still wouldn’t even sleep beside Laurent without his express permission. But unlike all their nights in Akielos he was propped up with his back against the couch, his head leaned back on the armrest by Laurent’s head so their faces were only a few inches apart, his hair close enough to tickle Laurent’s cheek as he snored lightly. 

Now, Laurent stood up from his spot and walked to the edge of the room, dragging one of the chairs towards the desk and kicking at Damen’s leg. “Move,” he said, nudging his head to the side so he could get his seat back. “We have actual work to do.”

It was a bit of pouts and sounds of protest before he finally got up, playfulness forgotten as he immersed himself into his work seriously, fingers tapping on the desk while he read. 

Laurent was looking through one of his planners, crossing something out and thinking of how it would be best to rearrange his day when he felt his stare. He wasn’t sure if it was because the sound of rapping had stilled or if he just knew, but when he turned his head, Damen was looking at him.

He set his pen down. “What?”

Damen was leaned back in his chair, his elbow slung around the backrest. He leaned his cheek on his fist. “Can I take you out tonight?”

Laurent looked around the office, blinking. He was unsure why he was even pretending to think about it, as if the six words alone hadn’t caused his heart to feel like it was spiraling, a simmering that he felt spread to his fingers like the tips of them were buzzing. 

“Okay,” he said.

Damen smiled, reaching for his pen. “Okay.”

It was unfortunate how much consideration Laurent spent getting ready that night. He could rarely believe he had reached this point, that he was actually one of those people who got dressed with someone else in mind, and that he actually cared about how the fit of his pants or the color of his shirt would appeal to someone other than himself. But he found that he liked that, oddly. It added an almost shy aspect to the mundane task of getting ready, a sort of giddy anticipation that he’d read about but never experienced himself. 

The knock on the door had Laurent fumbling for his keys and his phone, smoothing his hair down before he walked through the living room and into the entryway, his steps feeling tenuous. 

Damen was standing behind the threshold when Laurent opened the door, and it felt ridiculous beyond measure how off balance seeing him made Laurent feel. It was only the second time Damen had been to Laurent’s apartment, and yet seeing him there felt so right, a missing piece found. Laurent wanted to pull him inside and keep him there forever.

He wore the same distressed jeans that he had worn on the night of his family’s dinner, and they caught Laurent’s eye the same way thy had then. His shirt was formfitting, and the sleeves of his jacket were pushed up his forearms. He had three white roses in his hand.

Laurent looked, and looked, not knowing if he could do anything but. He raised his eyes to Damen’s, his fingers unrelenting from their tight grip on the doorknob. 

“Hi,” Damen said, gently.

“Hi,” Laurent said. 

Damen took a step in when Laurent didn’t say anything else, holding the flowers up. “These are for you.”

Laurent took them from him, his heart thundering inside his chest, banging against his ribcage like when Damen had pulled him out of the water and into his arms.

“They’re beautiful,” Laurent said, unsure what else he could handle.

Damen’s lashes lowered as he brushed Laurent’s cheek with his thumb, soft behind his earlobe. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

Temporarily forgetting himself and deciding not to care, Laurent heard the flowers rustle between their chests as pressed himself against Damen and took his face in his hands.

**two weeks later**

There were many things Damen had learned about Laurent in their months working together, their few days in Akielos and their two weeks getting to know each other differently. Some he’d assumed, some he had known and had only had expanded for him, proven into a concrete thing. His brand of humor. The way he acted around other people, depending on his comfort level or the reaction the situation deemed. He was growing used to it all, and all those little facets of Laurent were slowly becoming a sort of second nature to him. 

One thing Damen wasn’t particularly accustomed to was Laurent’s inclination to instigate things in the least suspecting, most abnormal times. That much could be said then, in Laurent’s office, the closed door the only thing separating the near fifty people right outside from the sight of Laurent with his legs around Damen’s waist. 

It had escalated rather quickly, as things tended to between them. Damen had entered Laurent’s office for the sole purpose of getting his notes and opinions on a presentation, and what had started as a parting kiss had turned into Laurent being lifted onto his desk with his hands in Damen’s hair. 

Everyone working at Acquitart knew about them by now, whether they had been there on the day that Damen had gone after him or if they had simply seen the way they acted around each other now. Walking in together, sharing meals in each other’s office rather alone, the occasional hand holding that had Damen’s pulse speed up each time. Regardless, that did nothing to curve the over awareness Damen felt each time they heard someone walk by their door.

Damen’s winded arms moved down Laurent’s back, palms sliding against the fabric of his shirt as he held onto him tightly, his lips parting against Laurent’s. He felt one of Laurent’s thighs hitch higher around his hips as his fingers moved down from their hold around his neck and moved to his shirt.

One of Damen’s favorite discoveries was the sensitivity of Laurent’s skin, and the way he arched against Damen’s mouth when he brushed his lips along the spot below his chin, across his clavicle. He lowered his hands as far as he could and pulled him even closer, pressing them together as he leaned his weight into Laurent, tipping him back slightly against the desk.

Damen bit into his lip when he felt Laurent’s hand slide beneath his opened zipper, rubbing the heel of his hand against him. Laurent pulled his lip down with the pad of his thumb, bringing their lips back together so that he could feel Damen groan against him as his hand closed around him.

“Someone can-” Damen said, one hand falling out to support his weight, gripping the edge of the desk. “Walk in.”

Laurent’s lips were wet against the line of his jaw, his grip around Damen’s cock tight as he held his shoulder with his other hand.

“Then don’t make any noise,” Laurent said into his ear, going faster.

Damen felt the way he slumped forward even more, face pressed into Laurent’s neck, his mouth open and breathless against him as Laurent touched him the way he knew Damen liked, stroking him harder with each murmur into his skin. Laurent ran his free hand through Damen’s hair, slowly, and the tenderness of the touch followed by the graze of his teeth against Damen’s earlobe had him panting with release, Laurent’s name the only thing he could say.

Damen was still breathing raggedly as Laurent took his face between his fingers and kissed him, softly, timidly gentle in that way he tended to be after sex. His face was flushed despite Damen being the one to have finished, his blue eyes very dark.

“Let me,” Damen said as he straightened himself as best as he could, his body feeling warm and languid, still thrumming with waves of pleasure. 

Laurent intercepted his hand, shaking his head before brining it to his lips and kissing Damen on the wrist. His cheeks flushed again immediately after, going rosy pink like that was the most shocking thing that had just transpired between them.

“I can-” Damen said, wanting to make Laurent feel just as good. It might have been a little selfish, finding that there were few more pleasing things in the world than seeing the way Laurent responded to pleasure. 

“You will,” Laurent said, buttoning Damen’s shirt. “Tonight.” 

**one month later**

Damen pulled the cart to a stop as he selected a few bottles of milk, arranging them in a row before adding a carton of eggs and butter, tapping his foot listlessly to the faint sounds of music playing throughout the grocery store. He checked the recipe on his phone for a third time, eyes scanning the list as he moved into the next aisle and began sorting through the vegetables. 

Laurent dropped a handful of snacks into the shopping cart, not even bothering to place them in a bag so that they were spread out even, the plastic crinkling noisily against all of the containers and boxes. 

“This is what you came back with?” Damen asked, pushing aside two boxes of Pringles so he could make room for the onions and mushrooms, stacking things on top of one another. 

“Don’t complain,” Laurent said, handing Damen the tortillas and spices that he had sent him for. “Here.”

Damen looked at the packaging, frowning when he saw all the added ingredients. “This isn’t the one I described.”

“Yes well, it’s the one we’re eating,” Laurent said as he took it from Damen’s hands and threw it in, taking the cart from him and pushing.

Laurent walked beside him as he continued to look through all the shelves, picking through the things they needed for that night’s dinner and what they would probably need the next few days before one of them went shopping again. Laurent handed him two jars of the sauce Damen preferred, rearranging things again while Damen looked through the boxes of pasta. 

Laurent pulled the sleeves of his shirt down as they neared the frozen aisle, rubbing as his elbow. “What else?”

“Can you get ground beef?” Damen asked, nodding his head to the right direction.

Damen’s phone vibrated with an email as Laurent walked away, an author that he knew Laurent admired and was interested in working with, and Damen had been determinedly trying to arrange a meeting between them for days. He read trough the response quickly, smiling as he made his way through it and lifting his eyes rapidly to make sure Laurent wasn’t back yet. He gave his calendar a quick check before replying, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Working with Laurent had always been an experience, which was an understatement at best. As frustrating as he could be, it was something Damen had always enjoyed, even before they had seen eye to eye. As infuriating as his early months at Acquitart had been, Laurent had an eye for small details and a mind for innovative things that was always pleasurable to experience, and Damen had counted himself lucky enough to be exposed to it form day one.

Working with him now was something entirely different. They fed off each other easily, and one negative seemed to always be balanced by another’s positive. Listening to Laurent speak about his visions, his plans to Damen unabashedly was enthralling, even when it was something as simple as work related things. Whether it be in the office, walking through a shop or laying beside each other in bed, there wasn’t a time where Laurent showed him his inner thoughts and Damen didn’t count himself lucky.

It still felt impossible to reconcile, where they had been and where they were now, where they were going. It was equally as astounding for Damen to look back at all those moments before, all those little instances between them, and for him to have not realized what they all meant. For him to have not realized that Laurent had always been there.

Damen wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he realized that Laurent wasn’t back yet, and he couldn’t think of anything else that he needed or that Laurent would think to get for himself. He checked the time on his watch before turning the cart around, pushing it back to the direction where Laurent had gone. 

Laurent was standing in the frozen aisle, though rather doing any actual shopping he was leaning on one of the shelves, his phone pressed to his ear.

“No,” Laurent was saying, catching Damen’s eye as he approached. “Yes.”

“ _Work_?” Damen mouthed, to which Laurent nodded.

Already far used to Laurent accepting these kinds of calls even when he was off hours, he left the cart by him and sifted through all the cuts of meat, looking for the one they needed. He didn’t pay much particular attention to Laurent, knowing that he would relay the conversation to Damen if it was necessary, but the sound of Laurent’s laughter had him lifting his head abruptly, looking at him over his shoulder. Laurent waved a hand at him, turning away and pacing as he continued to speak. 

Damen found what he was looking for, placing it in the top compartment of the cart beside a can of olives. He crossed his arms along the top and leaned forward, hanging his head and shaking his foot as he waited for Laurent to finish. 

Eventually Laurent came back, his phone out of sight as he came to stand beside Damen, putting a hand beside his on the cart handle.

“Did it go well?” Damen asked.

“Yes,” Laurent said. ”Your mom says hi.”

The casual mention of it was becoming more frequent, though neither time felt less significant to Damen, or sparked any less happiness in him. Laurent was someone who faced his obstacles head on, yet Damen vividly remembered the first days where he had blatantly avoided all talks of his family, and his initial reluctance to speak to his mother again. Damen had seen the bond that had grown between them in Akielos, and he knew how much finding out about everything had hurt her, how much the aftermath of it had hurt Laurent. The only thing that mattered more to Damen than building something with Laurent was watching him build something real with his family. 

“What did you talk about?” Damen asked as they neared the register. 

“She didn’t call you,” Laurent said, smiling at the look Damen gave him. Despite the crowded line and the intrusive calls from the cashier workers, he leaned over the cart and kissed Damen on the lips. 

**six weeks later**

There seemed to be a never-ending list of things that Laurent was discovering about himself those past weeks, with Damen. 

It wasn’t something that he thought everybody could understand. At times, he didn’t even know if Damen understood. To be this person, to have these concrete notions about yourself and what you are and are not capable of. To feel as if life is mapped out for you, to be destined only for certain things, everything you dream and hope for just out of reach and never truly attainable.

It was a groundbreaking sort of thing, an otherworldly sort of revelation to open your eyes one day and see that those things might be closer in reach than you’ve always thought. That the shambles of who you were could be picked up and put together to create a new picture. A whole picture.

That was what being with Damen felt like, whether it be accepting a call from him, walking the city with him or feeling his body against his.

The first time had been terrifying, and everything Laurent wanted it to be. Laurent’s reservations had been heeded, his hesitancies acknowledged in a way that made him feel safe without feeling small, fragile. As someone who had spent so much of his life feeling like he was shattered beyond repair, it was an inconceivability beyond all hope to see that there might be a possibility of more. That slowly, carefully, Laurent could experience this thing, could have something that he thought had been taken from him when he was too young to have a say. 

Sometimes, it was complicated. Sometimes, it was fearful. Those moments were there.

But sometimes, it was this. It was Damen touching him with hands so gentle that they could never be mistaken for anything else. It was Damen gazing at him, kissing him with happiness and tenderness and heart. It was Laurent knowing what it was like to be looked at, admired, and to cherish it. It was Laurent knowing what it felt like to enjoy this, to reclaim this. 

Sometimes it was playful, the two of them stumbling into a room with their hands constantly wandering, unable to do anything but laugh against each other as they bumped into closets and tables, clumsy with impatience and fumbling with guileless anticipation. 

Laurent’s hands felt greedy as they scrambled with Damen’s buttons, less than seconds away from simply tearing it open and tossing it aside when it finally came off, Laurent’s joining it on the floor a moment after. His blood was pumping with thrill and the exuberant feeling of youth, of possibilities as Damen pressed him against the wall, taking his mouth.

The sensation of being held against a solid wall by Damen’s bulk was not like being caged in, but like being held together. Damen’s strength was mesmerizing, consuming, but Laurent hardly had time to luxuriate in the headiness of it before they were moving again, Damen’s arms tightening around his midsection so that they fell onto the bed together, ungainly and persistent like Damen was so caught up that staying still wasn’t a possibility. 

Laurent felt them bounce slightly, his hair falling into his eyes from the rush of it as Damen pressed kisses along his shoulder, up the line of his cheek, and it was unimaginable that Laurent could really be in this moment, that he could actually be on his back, laughing helplessly and joyously with another man on top of him, and all he wanted was more.

Damen lifted his head at the sound, smiling so brightly and boyishly that Laurent thought his heart might erupt. His entire body felt warm, weightless with the idea that something like his own comfort could make someone else so happy, especially when it was someone that Laurent would do anything for. 

Damen’s kisses turned frantic and intentionally messy, neither of them able to hold back their grins, and it reminded Laurent of the first time Damen had walked into his bedroom and seen the stuffed lion he had won him weeks ago at the carnival, tackling Laurent onto the bed the instant their eyes met. 

It was the rest of Laurent’s clothes that came off first, his nakedness feeling more pronounced by the fact that Damen was still partly dressed, though his arousal was unmistakably evident from the feel of him and the haze in his eyes. His advancement down Laurent’s body was slow, deliberate, and he heard rather saw the _thud_ as his pants fell to the floor.

Damen’s mouth pressed against the hallow of his hip, the side of his knee, and Laurent watched with parted lips as Damen looked up from between his legs, hunched over at the foot of the bed with his hands on Laurent’s thighs, rubbing slowly.

“Can I?” Damen asked, His voice rich in the way only Laurent got to hear, husky and thick. His lips glistened, and the light skimming of his fingers had Laurent’s eyes closing unintentionally. 

Laurent made a sound of assent, but Damen was persistent, moving his weight forward slightly. “Laurent,” he said, request in his tone.

“ _Yes_ ,” Laurent said. 

Damen’s hands moved under him instantly, and Laurent accepted the movement with ease, allowing himself to be turned over so that his elbows were pushed into the bed, his hips tilted upwards. He was unable to feel anything but hot arousal spiking through his veins as Damen ran a palm down his spine, smoothing against his sides as his fingers came to rest against his thighs, pushing his legs apart.

It felt daring, incomprehensibly intimate, no less illicit no matter how many times they did this. Laurent felt overcome by how much there still was for them to explore, dazed by the way something so unthinkable could feel so good when it was with someone you trusted.

The press of Damen’s lips were calculatedly slow, languid in their drag from the small of his back to the curve of his hip, his breath hot against Laurent’s skin as he continued to touch him everywhere that held no amount of importance. Laurent’s shoulders were tense with expectancy, and the subtle arch of his hips were met with an open kiss to the inside of his thigh that had Laurent feverish with impatience.

“Damen,” Laurent said, and the sound of his name brought on another kiss, his tongue wet against his skin.

Laurent was fairly certain he was still above begging, though he had no qualms about spreading his thighs farther apart, curling his fingers into the sheets in a way that he knew would not be missed, and he felt that same deep sensation surge inside him in a hot rush as Damen’s fingers went to his cheeks, opening Laurent for his eyes.

It felt vulnerable, tantalizing in its exposure, and Laurent could focus on nothing else as he felt the first touch of Damen’s tongue, a wet slide that was inexact in a way that could have only been intentional, the next one just as light. Laurent looked back at him just as Damen lifted his head, and the sight of him, rippling muscles and bared strength kneeling behind him was almost too much. 

Whatever expression Damen seemed to have caught on Laurent’s face must have been enough, because his head was lowered again, his tongue moving without any further preamble. 

Like all other things, Damen was exceptionally good with his mouth, and Laurent couldn’t help the way his head fell to hang between his shoulders as Damen’s lips parted against him, unrelenting in the stroke of his tongue and the angling of his face. It felt indecent, carnal, the way the unguarded sounds Damen was making made Laurent feel, toes curling into the sheets as his lips parted against the silk of the pillow, not quite sure if he would be able to mask all of his sounds. 

When Damen pulled back it was only for a moment, the graze of his teeth light and unobtrusive before his mouth was back at his entrance, any sounds he was making muffled by the press of Laurent’s thighs.

It was impossible for Laurent to stop himself from pressing against the sheets, just barely holding himself back from rutting, unrestrained, chasing the pleasure that Damen was giving him, was making him discover anew. He felt a shift of Damen’s body behind him, a steady back and forth movement like he was touching himself while opening Laurent with his tongue, and the thought of it had Laurent groaning into his elbow, the press of skin against his lips not enough to stifle the sound.

Damen groaned against him, probing his tongue at a deeper angle that had Laurent pushing again, the nails of Damen’s hand biting into his side as Laurent took it. A minute like this passed, another, and it was the first steady, wet nudge of a finger inside him that had Laurent’s hips lurching, his body shuddering as he came into the sheets with a whimpered curse. 

Damen was against him in seconds, arms winding around his chest so the length of their bodies were pressed together. His face was pressed into the side of Laurent’s neck, his lips latching onto damp skin as he thrust himself between Laurent’s thighs, mouthing incoherencies into his flushed body.

He came with Laurent’s face turned into his, their foreheads pressed together as he spilled against the sheets, Laurent’s thighs wet with it. 

After he was like gelatin, his body boneless like he often was after sex, falling onto Laurent only seconds after Laurent managed to turn onto his back and open his arms to him. They lied in the silence of his room with their legs tangled, Damen’s face pressed into Laurent’s chest so that each breath of air was twinned. When Laurent pushed back Damen’s hair and kissed his temple, Damen looked up at him, and smiled. 

**two months later**

Damen’s errands had taken longer than expected, everything seeming to pile up like the world was set on keeping him busy, away. By the time he was finally pulling up with the long day behind him, all he wanted was to leave everything behind him and relax for a night. He’d texted Laurent earlier that he would be back later then expected, but hadn’t checked his phone for a response, knowing how easily he could distract him.

Damen was capable of hard work. He enjoyed it. Preferred it, even. But there was something about shutting the door behind him that night that soothed him, the familiar silence of home making him feel instantly calmer. Everything was clean and orderly, books shelved and magazines stacked, blankets and pillows tossed onto the couch in that artfully messy way. The glass door to the balcony was pushed open, the backdrop of the city a blackened blanket of stars. Distantly, Damen cold hear the soft sounds of the radio. 

The table was set, glass cups and metal silverware that were rarely utilized, glistening on the polished cherry wood of the table. Candles lined the center and random surfaces around the room, the coffee table and the stretch of the mantel blooming with flicks of orange and yellow. The room felt hazy with warmth.

Laurent was in the kitchen, his entire presence like a spotlight to Damen. His back was turned to the doorway as he bent over to check something in the oven, rearranging things around with a thoughtless humming sound. His hair was still slightly damp, the sleeves of Damen’s sweater rolled up around his elbows.

Damen waited before the oven was closed and he was straightened before he approached him, wrapping his arms around Laurent’s waist and pressing his face into his nape. Laurent jolted slightly, his hand flying up to Damen’s arm instinctively before he breathed, his fingers sliding into Damen’s.

“I missed you,” Damen said. The skin of his stomach was soft. 

Laurent turned in his arms and kissed his neck before returning to the counter, picking the knife back up. ”Are you hungry?”

“I didn’t even know you could cook,” Damen said.

“Shut up,” Laurent said, sliding the wooden board and a bowl of pepper toward him. “I hate dealing with the seeds, cut these.”

They finished preparing dinner together, Damen ultimately taking over while Laurent sat himself on a counter and watched. He opened a bottle of wine that was initially meant for the table that they ended up passing between each other as the kitchen filled with the smell of the food and the sound of their voices. Alcohol wasn’t something Laurent often indulged in, but sometimes he liked the light feeling and the meaningless laughter, when it was just the two of them.

They sat the table, everything too decadent and overindulgent for the lack of special occasion, and charmingly sweet in that way that Laurent was with many things. They spoke about an upcoming project and when they should book their flight to Akielos, eating far more than necessary because everything in those kinds of moments just felt good.

Eventually, Laurent got up and moved around the table so he was in the seat beside Damen, the two of them turning so they were more focused on each other than the food. By then they had made it to their second bottle of wine, at that point where they were both smiling a little too wide and talking a little more loud than necessary. Laurent’s legs were pulled up under him as he abandoned his fork and started slipping bites through Damen’s lips with his fingers, often missing on purpose. His eyes were very bright, and Damen could feel the alcohol infused flush he saw on Laurent spreading on his own face.

He let Laurent drain the last of the wine form the bottle, his wedding band clinking against the glass as he took it from his hand and set it down on the side. When he turned back to him Laurent’s head was tilted on the backrest of the chair, his fingers toying with the strings on Damen’s sweatshirt.

“What?” Damen asked. 

“Nothing,” Laurent said. Something seemed to make him smile, his eyes glinting with it as he turned Damen’s hand over with his. Damen felt the presence of the touch in his chest, his fingers lightly trailing the lines on his palm.

“I heard you on the phone earlier,” Laurent said, out of nowhere. “I didn’t know you could speak fluent Patran.”

Damen shrugged, scratching at his neck. “I’m sure I’ve spoken it in the office before, with prospective authors.”

“I never noticed.”

“It must have been when you hated me,” Damen smiled.

Laurent watched him as he turned his hand again, circling around his knuckles. “I never hated you.”

Damen’s laugh was a breath, pulling his own leg up and leaning an elbow on it. “No?”

Lauren narrowed his eyes, though it wasn’t as convincing as he seemed to think it was, given the gentle way he was sliding their fingers together. “Trust me,” he said, flatly. “You are infuriatingly difficult to hate.”

Whatever look was on Damen’s face seemed to not please Laurent as much as it did Damen, because he pulled his hand away with a roll of his eyes, muttering something that he couldn’t hear. 

Damen felt overcome with it, the need to pull Laurent into his arms and smother him with more affection and care than he had ever received, than Damen had ever given. It shocked even Damen at times, the degree to which he felt more than he had ever thought a certain person was capable. It would scare him, even, had he not known that it was reciprocated.

He didn’t feel the moment in which he pulled Laurent onto him, nor was he aware of how long they had been kissing when Laurent eventually pulled away, one of his hands on Damen’s chest.

Damen brought Laurent’s fingers to his lips, brushing under his eye with his thumb. The moment felt endless, a cosmic feeling that was going to be with them forever.

“Pretending with you was the best decision I ever made,” Damen said.

Laurent’s smile was slow building as he kissed Damen again, soft and brief

“Idiot,” he said, his fingers brushing his cheek. “I was never pretending.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ @laurent-ofvere](http://laurent-ofvere.tumblr.com)   
> 


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